Healing in the Last Homely House
by Thalion Estel
Summary: The Winter Soldier is struggling with himself as he tries to untangle the mess of thoughts in his head. Meanwhile, Aragorn is travelling to Rivendell for some necessary rest. Paths collide, evils are encountered, and peace is sought. Can the Soldier find healing in the Last Homely House?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Well, congratulations. You are reading the first crossover between **_**Captain America: The Winter Soldier**_** and **_**The Lord of the Rings**_** ever written. Please realize that I specifically said **_**The Winter Soldier**_**, because this story assumes you have seen the movie. If you have not, much will be spoiled, and since the movie is so incredibly awesome, I recommend you put my story on hold and watch the movie first. **

**To give some timeline, for those who can't figure it out, this takes place right after CA:TWS and, on the other end, an unspecified date during the 17 years between the Long Expected Party and the start of Frodo's journey.**

**Because most of you have not read my profile, I wanted to clear a couple things up. I will NOT be writing any slash. There will be a couple of friendships in which the participants love the other as one would a brother, but that should not be misinterpreted as romantic. There will also be no inappropriate language in this story.**

**Please let me know via the review box what you think! Do I write the characters well? Did you like the chapter? Will you read more? Do you even **_**want**_** more? This I can promise you, my dearest readers: updates will be directly proportional to the amount of reviews. So review.**

**Now, enough of my ramblings. Read away, and hopefully you'll enjoy this crossover.**

**Disclaimer: I own no settings or characters, either now or in the chapters that follow.**

Healing in the Last Homely House

The Winter Soldier sat in an abandoned building, still struggling with the new concept of conflicting thoughts. He had never once disobeyed, or at least he could never _remember_ disobeying, for pain and pattern had trained that out of him. HYDRA had made him a machine, capable only of following orders. But now something else had invaded his mind, a parasite of sorts, and orders were no longer the only objective in his consciousness.

_You know me._

Those words echoed in his mind, haunting him, but he could not stop himself from thinking them. _No I don't,_ the Soldier thought with his eyes shut tightly. It was just what he had yelled to the familiar man, the so-called "Captain America", during their last confrontation.

_Bucky, you've known me your whole life._

The conversation had played in the Soldier's mind for days. He was not even sure exactly how long it had been since he had taken refuge in this broken down building, but however much time had passed, it had not been long enough to dispel his confusion. If anything, time had added to the lack of clarity.

_Your name is James Buchanan Barnes._

_Shut up!_

_I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend._

_You're my mission. You're. My. Mission._

_Then finish it. 'Cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line._

Why were those last words so disturbing to the Soldier? He had pondered them many times since dragging Captain America from the water, but he still had no solution. He was not entirely sure why he had saved the man in the first place. Through this seemingly new process of thinking and wondering, questions were never answered; they only grew in number. If only his mind would stop demanding solutions, then he could have peace. But every time he tried to shove doubts or inquiries from his thoughts, the face of Captain America appeared in his memory, and he wrestled with himself again.

The Soldier knew he would have to move from his place soon, for both safety and satisfaction. He had to avoid being detected by either party, S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA. He also had to end the war in his mind. Information would not suddenly appear, the Soldier knew, and if he wanted peace in the form of answers, he would have to actively pursue it.

The Winter Soldier pushed himself to his feet, trying to ignore his body's protests to the action. He had relocated his shoulder soon after finding his shelter, but he still had many severe bruises. His stomach rumbled from lack of food, and he realized that his first step in his new plan of action should be to get nourishment and normal looking clothes. He had no idea where to find these items, but there were containers holding rubbish in the alleys, and while these would not offer the finest resources, the Soldier decided that one such container might have materials that would suffice.

Stealthily looking out from one of the broken windows, the Soldier deduced that no one was within sight, and his opportunity for movement was at hand. Without much difficulty, he slipped through a hole in the wall where several boards should have been and began to head for a nearby alleyway.

. . . . .

Aragorn sat by himself at a small table and sipped his ale slowly. _The Prancing Pony_ was the same as it had always been, and that was a comforting fact. Even if the people of Bree did not appreciate Aragorn, the ranger still enjoyed stopping in the area. The inn was no Rivendell, but it was far more comfortable and safe than the wild.

A new customer came through the door, and Butterbur hurried over to offer up hospitality. The stranger wore a dark hood, and Aragorn could not see his face. The heir of Elendil watched as Butterbur seated the man and ordered Nob to wait on him. The stranger looked up at Aragorn, and his identity was revealed.

"Halbarad!" Aragorn exclaimed as he stood up and moved over to his kinsman's table. "It is an unexpected pleasure to see you. What errand brings you to Bree?"

"I am returning to the Shire," Halbarad answered. "I have been about many other tasks, but now I am at last going to watch over the peaceful realm of the Little Folk. It was my hope to come upon you when I reached it."

"I have only just left the Shire a few days ago," Aragorn said. Nob soon appeared with refreshments for Halbarad, and the two rangers made themselves at home.

"Are our people well? Is the land still safe?" Halbarad asked, taking a bite of bread.

"It remains secure," Aragorn explained, "and the Dúnedain stationed there are well. I travel to Imladris, to rest for a while from my labors. It has been long since I gazed at that fair valley, and I hope to reach it by the week's end."

"When do you set out from _The Prancing Pony_?"

Aragorn smiled, an expression that Halbarad thought revealed the man's high lineage more than any other. "If it were an urgent matter, I would have left at first light. However, I decided to take a late breakfast. I was planning to begin in but a few minutes."

"Will you not stay and tell me of your journeying?"

"If you ask it, I shall do it."

Aragorn and Halbarad related to each other the tales of their travels. They hardly noticed the bustling about of Butterbur or the talking and laughing of the other guests. They were just glad to get some news and see a friend. At last, however, Aragorn bade Halbarad a farewell and prepared to start out.

"I wish you a good journey with Eru's blessing," Halbarad said.

"You have my thanks. I wish the same for you."

"Be wary, though, Aragorn," Halbarad warned quietly. "There have been rumors of evil things stirring in the Trollshaws as of late. Keep open your keen eyes!"

"I will," Aragorn assured him. "Farewell, my friend."

Aragorn arose from the table and walked to his room. On the bed sat his pack, ready to travel. Lying near it was his bow, his quiver, and the shards of Narsil. The ranger set his pack on his shoulders and strapped his sword to his side. He would normally have placed his bow in his pack, but Halbarad's warning caused him to keep it handy. When he had fastened his quiver in place, he threw his cloak over it all and marched out to find Butterbur.

After paying the innkeeper for last night's room, Aragorn walked out onto the uneven street of Bree, heading toward the stable. There was housed his steed, and when Aragorn had reached it, he stroked its neck and mounted. The ranger turned his eyes eastward, and with his jaw set, he urged the horse forward. Imladris awaited him.

**Author's Note: How was it? Remember, you've got to review! I am not afraid to call down the Doom of the Noldor on the evil readers who give no feedback, so I suggest you review, if only for your own safety.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here's Chapter 2. The plot thickens! Please remember to leave me a review when you finish reading. Giving me feedback is a requirement for readers of this story.**

2

The Winter Soldier had been able to find a long sleeved jacket with a few dark stains, some pants with holes, and a tattered baseball cap outside of an establishment entitled "Thrift Store". Decent food had been harder to find, but after about twenty minutes of searching, the Soldier at last found enough nourishment to suffice as a meal. Now he sat beside one of the large compartments of trash, wondering where he could find information of the kind he sought.

There was no point in asking someone for facts. They could report him, and anyway he had no memory of how to converse with a civilian. Instead, the Soldier considered trying to find a place with unrestrained access to a search network. He did not know what such a place would be called or where it would be located, but there was little risk of his being apprehended even if he took to the streets. With his change of clothes and more facial hair than normal, he would probably not be recognized.

The Soldier stood up and walked into the flow of people on the sidewalk. He felt uncomfortable, if such a feeling were possible for him, being near so many different men and women. He evaluated the potential threat each one posed to him, but he soon noticed that this made them cautious, so he only stole quick glances at people when they were not focused on him.

He passed by many different buildings, each with a description or title on its front. The Soldier entered a few places, but none offered what he was searching for. After he had been walking about an hour, a large board atop a tall pole caught the Soldier's attention. It had a picture of Captain America, and below it, a short paragraph described a historic exhibit in the captain's honor. The Soldier was curious, for Captain America had claimed to know him, and perhaps learning about the captain would cause him to remember something. Taking note of the directions to the exhibit's location, the Soldier began walking with a new purpose, following the signs when they appeared.

The city was large, and it took more than an hour for the Soldier to reach the huge building where the exhibit was housed. The area was crawling with people, some with uniforms, and at first the Soldier hesitated. It would be hard to get inside undetected, especially with the several cameras placed at advantageous angles throughout the entrance.

Just when the Soldier was about to turn around, he spotted a group of about thirty people exiting a bus and walking toward the building. An idea came into his head, and he quickly jogged over and mingled with the crowd as they came into the door. The man at the head of the throng spoke with a guard, gesturing occasionally to all behind him, and in a few moments, the group was allowed to pass.

The Soldier separated from the crowd as soon as he was safely inside. He was able to find a sign detailing the exhibit on Captain America, and he made his way as inconspicuously as possible to its location. At last he arrived, and as he walked into the small area, he felt his hand beginning to shake.

Every picture on the wall seemed to make his mind reel. He somehow _knew_ the people in the pictures. He _knew_ the names on the plaques. He _knew_ the uniforms on the mannequins. He could not place memories with names and pictures, but he was sure that he had seen most of these things before.

He stared at most images and words only a few seconds, finding the pain of half-remembering nearly unbearable. However, soon his eyes fell upon a large glass display with a face pictured beside a paragraph of information. When he saw the picture, he felt his jaws part. It was himself. The name on the plaque was Bucky Barnes.

The Soldier stepped up to the display and remained fixed, reading and rereading every detail on it. His mind drank up the information, storing it away like a well regulated machine. Not one piece of the information in the paragraph was forgotten. Some of it was familiar, some of it was hazy and confusing, but all of it was eagerly received by the Soldier's brain.

It was not until someone bumped into him that he realized he had been standing there a long time. He restrained his instinct to lash out at the clumsy person, knowing such an action would bring guards. Instead, he began making his way toward the exit as quickly as he could, not knowing why he wanted to leave; only that he did.

Before he reached the door, the Soldier noticed a strange sensation. He lifted his human arm, and as he pulled back the sleeve on his jacket, he saw that his hair was standing on end. This would normally indicate a cold temperature or electric field, but after a careful look around, the Soldier could not find any such cause. Then, very suddenly, a dark abyss opened in front of him, and he was sucked in by a powerful force. All went black around him, and the Soldier lost consciousness.

. . . . .

Aragorn loved travel, no matter how often he was engaged in it. During the past eighty years, he had always liked to walk and ride long distances, and even when necessity and difficult circumstances were added to the mix, he found journeys enjoyable. As the sun set behind the hills, Aragorn found himself sighing in contentment.

It would be so nice to return to Imladris. It was in that fair valley that Aragorn's heart always dwelt, although he did bear a small, bitter pain while he rested there. The doom laid upon him by his love for the immortal elven maid, Arwen, caused him some sorrow, for either Lord Elrond would lose his daughter, or Aragorn would lose his love. Still, he pursued the hope that one day he could wed the beautiful descendant of Lúthien, and it was her lovely face that kept him going in dark times.

The ranger rode on, even as the darkness thickened. He did not push himself to the point of exhaustion, for he was not in any real hurry. When the shining moon came out, almost full in shape, Aragorn dismounted and looked for a place to rest. The moon's light revealed the summit of Weathertop to the northeast, and Aragorn veered from the road and turned towards it. He soon found a group of shrubs clustered tightly together, and he decided to sleep there.

Aragorn tied his horse's bridle loosely to a branch and prepared a makeshift bed with a blanket. He ate a morsel of dry food, drank a few sips of water, and nestled down in the tall grass. He fell asleep easily, for the uneven ground did not affect him, and his sleep was peaceful.

The next morning, he awoke at dawn and resumed his trek. The horse he rode was bred for travel, and it did not have a hard time going at a decent pace all day long. The terrain changed slowly, and there were no travelers on the road. The hours passed by, and once again Aragorn saw the sun sinking and the moon rising. He turned aside and found a hollow in which to sleep, but he did not receive the peaceful rest he had experienced last night.

Aragorn was restless and uneasy, tossing and turning as he slept. His dreams were foreboding, though it was a strange kind of dark feeling. To Aragorn it seemed that great anguish was near, yet not necessarily his own. Throughout half the night, Aragorn struggled in his dream, but he saw nothing except darkness. Then, at last, the dream changed, and a blurry vision met his eyes.

Aragorn saw a red light, probably a fire, flickering behind trees in the distance. He was suddenly closer, and he could see shadows flashing back and forth, though he could not make out their owners. There was something shining in the light, as if there were a pool near the fire, or perhaps a person clad in silver raiment. The sound, which was muffled at first, grew louder, and Aragorn realized that there was a fight going on between at least two things. One appeared larger than the other, but before Aragorn could see anything else, the vision faded.

Aragorn awoke with a start. He sat up quickly and felt for his sword, even though he had nothing to fear in the waking world. His breathing was hard, and sweat was on his brow. He turned and looked at his horse, which grazed without care or fear. When he had assured that all was well, he stood up and patted his steed's neck.

"I suppose I am in a more desperate need of decent rest than I had thought, dear fellow," he said quietly. The horse took no notice of its master, but Aragorn still smiled. "If I am to get this rest, we must be off again."

With no appetite, Aragorn packed up his belongings and mounted immediately. He tried, but he could not shake the dream from his mind as he journeyed that day. It had not been clear, but it had been _real_. Aragorn was by no means afraid, but kept his bow close at hand as he continued traveling down the path.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Here comes some action! I hope y'all enjoy it. Listen, my dear readers: I know that there are several of you reading and not reviewing. For shame! The little box at the end of the chapter is not for decoration. Please leave me some feedback! If you only review three or four words, I will be very happy.**

3

The Winter Soldier was standing in a dense wood. He did not recall awakening, or even coming to consciousness. He had no idea how much time had expired since the strange abyss had appeared. All he knew was that at this moment, he was most certainly not in the building he had been in before.

Taking in his surroundings with more detail, the Soldier noticed that there were no signs of civilization anywhere. No path could be seen among the trees, no houses were visible, and the deep quietness indicated no cars, planes, or crowds. The only sounds were rustling leaves and calling birds. The only light was that of a setting sun, close to disappearing behind distant hills.

The Soldier was not afraid, but he was thoroughly perplexed. He could not even come close to finding a logical possibility that could explain how he had come to be here. For several minutes he simply stood still and thought, trying to remember any incident in the exhibit or before that would have caused his ordeal. No solution presented itself, and the Soldier decided to turn his attention to the situation at hand.

The sun was now halfway below the hills, and the Soldier knew that darkness could likely be his enemy. He opted to find a decent place to rest, where he could continue to think while remaining unseen. He was also hungry again, but he could not risk wandering about looking for food without the advantage of sight. The Soldier walked around in the forest for about a quarter of an hour before finding a tree with branches that could make a suitable platform. He tore some large twigs from the trees, each with plenty of leaves for cushioning, and spread them across the branches. He then lay down and closed his eyes, though his ears were attentive to the smallest disturbance.

When the Soldier roused himself in the morning, he was somewhat stiff, but had suffered no incident during the night. He climbed down from his perch and began to explore the woods, looking for any sign of a path or house. His hunger was quite strong now, though without a gun, he knew he had little chance of catching anything. He snacked on a few edible plants, but they did not calm his hunger. His thirst was slowly becoming a problem as well, but he did manage to find a small stream a little while before noon, where he drank eagerly.

The day went past very slowly. The Soldier walked through the trees with growing frustration, never finding anything that he sought. There were no trails, no buildings, and no satisfying foods. He was beginning to slow down due to his deteriorated condition, and that concerned him greatly. However, he would not improve by standing around, so he kept walking.

At last, the sun disappeared. As its light faded, the Soldier continued aimlessly through the trees, hoping that if he traveled in a straight line, he would at least find the end of the woods. It was too dark to see very well, but suddenly the ground beneath the Soldier's feet became flat, although the forest around him was unchanged. He looked around and noticed that he had indeed found a small path, and without a second thought, he turned and followed it. He noticed that it led him west, though he did not really care in which direction it took him, so long as it took him somewhere.

When he had been walking about ten minutes, he stopped dead in his tracks as a wonderful smell reached his nostrils. It was the aroma of cooking meat. The Soldier started off with new zeal, and as he went, the scent became stronger. Soon he could see the light of a fire burning about a hundred yards off the trail, and he swung towards it. He now walked more slowly and stealthily, even though his stomach was screaming for immediate satisfaction. Finally, he reached the trees just outside the small clearing where the fire was blazing. He peeked his head around one if the great trunks and tried to make sense of what he saw.

Sitting on some large logs were two of the strangest and ugliest creatures the Soldier had ever seen. They were much larger than any man, their thick skin was almost scaly, and their limbs and head seemed disproportional. They were talking, or more likely arguing, together, but their speech was so coarse that the Soldier could not understand them.

They appeared somewhat dangerous, but the Soldier was too hungry to care. He unsheathed one of his knives and tried to come up with a plausible plan of attack. With his limited weaponry, there was a fairly decent chance he would sustain injury. Despite this fact, the alternative of starving to death was less appealing, so the soldier set his position and prepared to jump onto the closest creature's back.

. . . . .

Aragorn was quite tired as he dismounted his horse. It was only about an hour after sunset, but the ranger was exhausted, and he was forced to walk in order to stay awake. On top of his first uneasy night, he had experienced the same troubling dream again last night, depriving him of adequate rest. He had decided when he awoke to travel longer today so that his sleep might be deeper, but now he was considering turning in soon.

As he plodded along the path, a sound disturbed the silence, and Elendil's heir looked up with a start. His hands were on his bow before his brain had time to command it, and an arrow was to the string in another second. Adrenaline surged through his veins, and his weariness fell from him as a cloak. The images from his dream flashed into Aragorn's memory, and he breathed a silent prayer as he continued.

He veered from the path, but he walked only a few yards from it so as not to lose it. More sounds came to his ears, and a faint light was visible ahead. Aragorn looped his horse's bridle to a tree branch and went on by himself, walking as quietly as if he were hunting a stag. In a few minutes, he saw that there was a clearing a little ways ahead with a fire at its center. Shadows were playing across the trees, and Aragorn knew this was what he had dreamed. His first thought was trolls, and he fingered the bow in his hands readily.

The ranger finally reached the clearing, taking in all the details that he could. One troll lay slumped over a log, dead. Its throat had been cut, and since that was its only visible injury, Aragorn deduced that it had been killed by surprise. Despite this strange development, there was a far more important scene occurring in the clearing, and it consumed Aragorn's attention immediately.

Another troll was wielding a large tree limb like it was a club, and his intended target was ducking back and forth as fast as he could. To the ranger's surprise, the other combatant was a man. However, this man fought like no one Aragorn had ever seen. He was insanely quick and strong, and his left arm was made of a silver colored metal. He appeared to have already been hurt, for while he was fast, he limped and staggered.

Aragorn saw all this in only a few seconds, and before he could do anything, the troll gained a victory. By swinging too low, it managed to knock the man off his feet. Then with a second swipe, the club slammed into the disoriented man, throwing him across the clearing. He let out a cry of pain and flew several feet in the air before crashing into a tree and falling in a heap onto the ground. He did not rise.

Aragorn had no reason to defend the man, but he did not need one. With a loud shout, he sprang from the trees to draw the troll's attention. As soon as the beast looked the ranger's way, Aragorn loosed his arrow, hitting his enemy in the eye. The creature screamed with pain and waved his arms about wildly. Aragorn quickly dropped his bow and unsheathed Narsil, despite its being broken, and charged straight for his disadvantaged foe.

"Elendil!" he cried as he reached the troll and stabbed upwards.

His blow hit the troll in the sternum, and before the beast could deal its own stroke, Aragorn followed up his first attack with another slice. The troll crumpled to the ground, just barely missing the ranger on its way down. When he was sure the troll was dead, Aragorn rushed over to the fallen man, hoping beyond hope that he was still alive.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Here's another chapter! Hey, is anyone out there reading this? A few of you have been kind enough to comment, but on the whole most people are not giving me any feedback. Did I waste my time, or do some of you find this story at least the slightest bit enjoyable? Please leave me some reviews, especially you who have yet to say anything. They really do mean a lot, and they will hasten the updates. Thanks!**

4

The Winter Soldier could barely produce conscious thoughts. Every part of his body felt as if it were on fire, and he wondered if he would die. For the first time in his life, or at least the life he remembered, he was afraid of death. He was not even sure why he was afraid, but he fought the end with every painful breath. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he was turned onto his back by strong yet gentle grip.

Aragorn gasped as he got his first look at the man's face. It had many gashes across it from where the log had hit him, and his jaw looked to have been slightly fractured. However, it was the man's eyes that stood out. They were full of fear and pain, but a pain deeper than wounds. Aragorn's fingers tingled as they touched the cold metal of the man's arm, but he did not let any of his thoughts show on his face.

After looking over the man, he deduced that there was no area bleeding excessively, and therefore immediate treatment would do little good. Even with all his experience, Aragorn could not offer much aid in this situation, for he had neither light nor medicine. The only way the man would be able to recover was if he were brought to Rivendell. The ranger might not know who the man was or what his intentions were, but his life was on the line, and the right thing to do was help.

"Can you hear me?" Aragorn asked.

The Soldier did hear something, but it was unclear, for all his senses were reeling. It seemed likely to him that the man had saved him from the beast, and therefore would not kill him. He tried to focus on the stranger hovering over him, but it was difficult.

"Can you hear me?" Aragorn asked again.

The Soldier understood and managed a slight nod. He grimaced as waves of pain shot through his body, and his breath came in quick, small pants. He wished he could do something, anything, but his limbs did not respond.

"Listen to my words," Aragorn said slowly. "I am going to fetch my horse. I will return as soon as I can."

For some reason, the Soldier did not want to be left alone. The thought of dying all by himself made his breath come even more quickly, and the ranger noticed it.

"I _will_ return," he said adamantly, pressing his hand firmly on the Soldier's shoulder.

With that, the ranger sped away, and the Soldier was alone. He felt he had no choice but to believe what the man said, though it did not make the waiting easier to bear. Strange images flashed through his mind of a train, of snow, and of Captain America. The later seemed to swallow the others, and suddenly a name pierced the Soldier's mind like a knife.

_Steve._

Was that Captain America's name? The Soldier had been actively denying his knowledge of any past with the captain, despite his irrational feelings, but that name had come out of nowhere. Perhaps he had read it in the exhibit. Captain America might have even said it, or at least been called it by a comrade. Although all these were reasonable excuses, the Soldier somehow realized that the name had come from his own memory, not an outside source.

Within two minutes of his departure, Aragorn returned with his horse. He hastily tossed his pack onto his back, grabbed up his bow, and cleaned the long shard of Narsil before placing it in its sheath. Running over to the Soldier, he spoke as clearly as he could.

"I am going to take you to a place where you can heal. It will be safe. Please forgive me if this is painful."

With that, Aragorn caused his horse to sit down beside the injured man. Then, using all the strength he possessed, the ranger lifted the Soldier from the ground and put him in the saddle. The Soldier grunted and clinched his teeth at the sharp pain caused by the movement, but he relaxed a little when he was on the horse.

Aragorn swung up behind his patient and whispered in Sindarin to the horse. It darted forward at his words, and Aragorn held the Soldier steadily so that he would not fall or be overly jolted. The ranger guided the steed back onto the path, and then it needed no more instructions. It knew the way home.

The pair galloped on for several hours. The Soldier was just barely awake throughout most of the trek, but his mind never left the face of Captain America. Steve. The familiar man. He did not know what to believe anymore. He had purposefully assumed the information about himself given by the exhibit and by the captain to be erroneous, but there was the slight possibility that it was true. No! It was probably some trick of S.H.I.E.L.D. to make him lose focus.

_I knew him._

Those words formed in the Soldier's mind, but they felt familiar there. They were not someone else's thoughts, but his own. From before? Had he run into the captain before the Helicarrier incident? He knew that HYDRA had wiped his mind in the past, but why would they do that in the middle of a mission?

The noise of running water pulled the Soldier's mind back into the present. He wondered how long they had been riding, but he could not tell. Through the painful action of looking up, the Soldier saw the moon, gleaming bright and full, over a long river, which shone like glass. The water's gentle sound was soothing, and the Soldier closed his eyes and listened to it as they rode over the fords.

The valley spread out around beautifully, but Aragorn had no time to admire the view. Now that they had crossed the fords, they were only a few minutes from Imladris, and it was likely they would run into a patrol of some kind soon. Aragorn hoped it would be someone he knew very well so that there would be no delay, and he did not have to wait long to find out.

Another horse's gallop could be heard above the running water, and a call came from the road ahead demanding a halt. To the Soldier, the words were foreign, but Aragorn easily understood them. The ranger pulled the steed to a stop and replied quickly in Sindarin.

"Estel?" the unknown person asked in the dark, dismounting and walking forward.

"Glorfindel!" Aragorn cried with joy. Keeping his words in Sindarin, he greeted his life-long friend. "Well met! I am in haste, for I have with me a man in serious need of Master Elrond's healing."

"Who is he?"

"I do not know. I found him battling a troll about two or three hours ago. You have a swift steed; would you ride ahead and tell Lord Elrond of the matter?"

"With a good will."

Glorfindel leapt atop his horse, and with a quick command, the horse sped away into the night. The Soldier was curious about the identity of the man who had stopped them, and he tried to remember ever seeing such a person as the two rode on. The man was, in form similar, to all other men, but his eyes shone brightly, and his bearing was graceful. Strange.

It was becoming harder and harder for the Soldier to maintain consciousness. The night was getting darker, even though lights were appearing on either side of the path, which had now become paved. The horse crossed a thin bridge, and the Soldier felt the cool spray of water against his cheek. Just as his vision went completely black, he saw a tall man, similar to the one who had stopped them, though with dark hair, coming toward him.

Aragorn realized that his passenger had passed out, and quickly dismounted and helped Elrond get the injured man into a stretcher than had been brought. The ranger was very concerned for the man, but he was glad to see Elrond after so long.

"Is there anything I can do, my lord?" he asked.

"No; only go to your rest, my son. Your horse and your things will be taken care of, as will your guest."

Aragorn smiled and bowed to Elrond respectfully. He was still worried about the injured man, but he was confident in Elrond's healing capabilities, and he really did need some rest. He walked through the familiar halls of Imladris toward his quarters and sighed with contentment. He was home.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: And another chapter for you guys! This one is kind of short, and I know some would like longer chapters, but be patient. The more reviews I get, the faster everything will come. One good turn deserves another! (Basically, that means review at all costs! I KNOW that several dozen people have read all the posted chapters, yet less than ten have reviewed. Tears unnumbered ye shall shed if you do not give me feedback!)**

5

The Soldier awoke to a strange feeling. The surface beneath him was soft and comfortable, supporting his weight so that he would not be stiff. It was also clean, and the air smelled fresh and nice. The temperature was warm, but not hot, and the light indicated late morning. The Soldier could not remember ever feeling so at ease.

One move of his head erased that thought. He had forgotten about his injuries, though he realized as he slightly shifted his position that he was much better today than he had been when he and the stranger had ridden through the woods. Gazing around casually, the Soldier saw that he was in a small room with open windows looking toward a beautiful valley. Memories of the previous night flooded into his mind, and as his senses turned on, he noticed a figure sitting casually in a chair near him, reading from a book.

When the Soldier moved, the figure looked up, revealing that he was the same stranger from last night. The Soldier suddenly did not know what to do at all, for he had no memory of anyone helping him. What would a normal person do? Give a statement of thanks? The Soldier was not sure how to do that appropriately. Even if he had known how before going through the strange abyss, the customs could be different here.

"I apologize for our rough meeting yesterday," the man said. "To formally introduce myself, I am Aragorn. How do you fare this morning?"

The man's voice was kind and glad, though at the same time, it was wise and serious. Aragorn's presence was soothing, and the Soldier felt safe with him. However, that did not mean he was ready to pick up a conversation. He was not even sure how he fared this morning. Assessing his own condition, the Soldier opened his mouth to answer. No words came out. He grew frustrated with himself, but he could not make himself speak.

"After your ordeal," the ranger said, "no one would blame you for keeping your thoughts to yourself. Master Elrond, the lord of this valley and a master healer, says that you have already made remarkable improvements in the short amount of time you have been here. You heal incredibly fast, more quickly even than is natural for elven folk. Lord Elrond estimates that you will be fully recovered in a week's time. Would you like something to eat?"

The mention of food brought a swift nod from the Soldier, and Aragorn smiled and stood to his feet. He walked off to a table a few feet away and picked up a tray containing a cup of cool wine as well as a plate with a variety of fruits, vegetables, and meats. The Soldier struggled into a sitting position and Aragorn put the tray on his lap.

"Do not hesitate to ask me for anything you desire," Aragorn said, plopping back into his chair.

The Soldier was surprised that Aragorn remained in the room. It was probably not what the man most wanted to do, so why did he do it? The Soldier thought it unbelievably odd that a stranger would wait on someone to whom they owed nothing. Aragorn had made no mention at all of HYDRA, and his behavior was totally inconsistent with HYDRA patterns. What did this Aragorn have to gain from helping him?

Aragorn stole a look at the Soldier, who was eagerly eating what was on the tray. Elrond had spoken about the wonder of the metal arm for longer than was usual when filling Aragorn in on the man's condition earlier that morning. Aragorn, if he were generous, might have even called Elrond's manner _excited_. It was indeed an amazing device to behold.

There was something strange behind the man's eyes. He seemed lost. There was pain in his expression, as if it had been engraved there, and Aragorn pitied him. By his silence in response to Aragorn's previous question, the ranger knew it could be days before they received any personal information about the man.

"Could you give me at least you name?" Aragorn asked when the Soldier was finished with his tray.

The Soldier was troubled greatly by the inquiry. What _was_ his name? HYDRA had never really called him anything. Images of the Helicarrier and the exhibit flew into the Soldier's mind unbidden, though he tried to shove them out.

_Your name is James Buchanan Barnes._

The Soldier clenched his hands a little and closed his eyes. Aragorn picked up on this immediately and attempted to calm the situation down.

"You need not feel obligated to respond. I have refused to give my name in many places and at many times. Often times, people give me a name instead of asking for one."

The Soldier recalled the greeting of the strange person on the road. He had named Aragorn "Estel", which was clearly not a shorted version or last name. The title of the Winter Soldier was also a given name, not a chosen one. The Soldier nodded in response to Aragorn's comment, and Aragorn grinned softly.

"If you do not object, I name you Rancelevon, arm of silver, for now. There may be a day when you are fully revealed to me, but there is no reason for haste."

At that moment, two young looking men entered the door and strode quickly toward Aragorn, bearing wide grins. Aragorn met them halfway, and the two men each embraced the ranger. The Soldier saw that these men were just like the one who had stopped them before, but he did not ask about it.

"Rancelevon," Aragorn said, "allow me to introduce you to my lords Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond. They are as my brothers, for they have been my close companions since childhood."

"Your name is well-suited," Elrohir remarked with a polite smile. "I suppose Estel gave it to you?" The Soldier nodded.

"Estel means 'hope'," Elladan explained. "When he used to live here, that's what we all called him."

"How was your journey from the Shire?" Elrohir asked, turning to face Aragorn directly. "No incidents besides the notable one before us, I trust?"

Aragorn smiled. "None. It was pleasant indeed. The only thing worth noting is the lack of travelers on the road."

"Evil things are stirring," Elladan stated sadly. "People grow restless and fearful, though they do not yet have anything to fear."

"Except trolls," Elrohir reminded his brother with a playful grin.

"Quite right. Estel, the midday meal is soon. Will you be joining us in the great hall?"

"It is likely," the ranger replied, stealing a quick glance in Rancelevon's direction. He was not sure if Rancelevon would want to be left alone, so he added onto his previous statement. "Do not wait for me if I do not arrive on time."

"Oh, we won't," Elladan said with a laugh. "You needn't worry."

The two brothers walked out of the room together, and Aragorn settled back into his chair. The Soldier slowly returned to a lying position, and while his mechanistic mind had little interest in the ranger, there was a small part of him that was curious about the man's past. He mulled over in his mind what he had heard from Elladan and Elrohir, and soon he fell into another peaceful sleep.

**I hope you enjoyed it! The Sindarin name I gave the Soldier comes from the combination: ranc (arm) + celevon (of silver). What did y'all think? Anybody want more?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Here's chapter 6! I beg of you, my wonderful readers, to please give me some more feedback! Several of you have done so, for which I thank you from the bottom of my heart. The rest of you have a chance of redemption now! Review!**

6

The Soldier awoke just as the sun was beginning to set. He had slept all day? Looking over to his side, he saw that Aragorn was still there, sitting in his chair. The Soldier wondered if the man stayed with him the entire time. Now, instead of reading, he was cleaning a sword that was broken halfway down the blade. By the way Aragorn held it, the Soldier could tell that it was an important object, not just a damaged weapon.

This only caused him to be more curious about Aragorn, a sensation he had seldom experienced. The Soldier looked long at the ranger, especially studying his grey eyes. They somehow seemed to have years and years of wisdom, although the man's physical appearance did not indicate even half a century of life. The man soon noticed that the Soldier was awake, and that caused him to sheath his sword and smiled.

"I trust your rest was well, Rancelevon?"

Rancelevon. That was the name Aragorn had given him that morning. The Soldier decided it was a good name, and anyway he was glad to be called something that implied he was a person, not an asset. The name Bucky flew through his head again, but he shook it out. He decided there might be a day when he would be Bucky, if he ever had been, but it would not be today.

"Yes," Rancelevon said evenly. Aragorn was both surprised and delighted to get an audible response from the guest, so he continued.

"Dinner will be in the great hall shortly. Would you like to attend? No one will pester you with questions; I've already seen to that. It may do you some good to move about since you are healing so nicely."

Rancelevon thought about the invitation for a moment. It would be best to walk around, and he desired a change of scenery. Besides, he was getting hungry and thirsty, and there would probably be more food at a table than on a tray. If Aragorn went with him, he figured that it would be alright.

"I will come," he answered.

"That is well," Aragorn said with a grin. "There are some clothes folded on that table if you would like to change. I will return in about five minutes to show you to the hall."

Aragorn stood from his place and exited through the door. Rancelevon was alone, and it felt strange to be that way. Now that no one was watching, he grimaced as his thoughts warred with each other. When Aragorn had been sitting in the room, there had been something to distract his restless mind, but with the ranger gone, images of the Helicarrier flashed through Rancelevon's thoughts.

As he dressed in the strange but comfortable clothes, Rancelevon began to realize that more and more memories without context were appearing in his mind. He could remember when he had first awakened from his operation, having received the metal arm. He remembered with horror the conditioning he had endured with HYDRA to become the Winter Soldier. He even seemed to see Captain America, or Steve, as a younger, much smaller man.

_You know me._

A welcome knock at the door ended the feud and Rancelevon stepped gingerly toward the door, feeling some pain, but not too much. Aragorn was waiting patiently on the other side, looking almost lordly in his more formal clothes.

"Are you ready?"

Rancelevon nodded, and Aragorn began to lead the way through the winding halls of the Last Homely House. Much of their path included balconies outside, and it was there, with an unobscured view, that Rancelevon experienced Imladris to its fullest. No amount of mental conditioning could possibly make someone indifferent to the beauty of Rivendell. Rancelevon was astounded by the sheer and yet majestic walls of the valley, the sparkling river flowing beneath, and the pleasant aroma of the air. The sun's last rays only added to the greatness of the place, and Rancelevon did what he had not done at any moment in his remembered life. He smiled.

"The beauty of Imladris is unsurpassed in Middle Earth," Aragorn said when he saw Rancelevon's awe. "Here is preserved the glory of the Elder Days, for darkness has not yet the power to taint it."

After a couple minutes of walking, the pair reached the great hall. The hall contained a long, decorated table and a big hearth in the corner. One whole side of the room was without a wall, and instead was comprised of a huge balcony with benches and tables. The place was clearly made for many people to stay in at once, and already several chairs at the long table were filled.

Aragorn escorted Rancelevon to a seat and then sat beside him, an honor for which Rancelevon was grateful. While the talk remained casual, Aragorn pointed to different people seated at the meal and told Rancelevon about who they were. Although the foreigner had no recollection of the events or places Aragorn used to identify people, he stored the information and nodded when appropriate.

Rancelevon was only slightly surprised to see more of Elrond's kind of people there. It was more astonishing to witness the arrival of other strange races. A few guests were very short and sturdily built. They had long, thick beards with intricate braids, and most wore armor instead of regular clothes. Aragorn said that these people were representatives from the Lonely Mountain.

While Aragorn was talking, he was suddenly interrupted by a small voice from behind. "Dúnadan! How pleased I am to see you!"

Rancelevon turned around to see the smallest man he had ever observed. He was only about three and a half feet tall, and his feet were enormous and hairy. His face was wrinkled with age, but his eyes were merry, and he seemed to smile unceasingly.

"You have been in Imladeris almost a full day, and yet I haven't seen you once. Why haven't you come to greet me, Dúnadan?"

"I have been about other business, my dear hobbit," the ranger replied with a grin. "Rancelevon, this is Bilbo Baggins."

Rancelevon dipped his head as he had seen others do, and the hobbit returned the gesture. "I have heard a little about your meeting with Dúnadan in the woods. It was so exhilarating! We three simply must sit down sometime and discuss it. It would make for a wonderful song!"

"Perhaps someday soon," Aragorn replied.

The hobbit took the place beside Rancelevon, chatting and talking with the man without expecting any answers. He told of his friendship with Dúnadan during his years in Rivendell, his home in the Shire, and his own adventure to the Lonely Mountain. Rancelevon liked him.

"What does the name 'Dúnadan' mean?" Rancelevon asked before he realized how comfortable he was in the hobbit's company.

"Man of the West, as in Númenorean," Bilbo explained. "I did not give it to him though; many folk around here call him that, among other names."

All the seats were now filled, and Elrond stood from his place at the head of the table and called for silence. He then gave a general greeting to his guests and instructed the servers to bring out the food. Rancelevon's mouth watered at the scent of the meal, and when it arrived, he held nothing back. He ate all that his plate could fit, along with seconds and thirds. He was amazed to find that Bilbo consumed just as much as he himself did, if not more. The elderly hobbit said it was a trait of his people.

When the meal as finished, most people left to their rooms, but Bilbo convinced Rancelevon and Aragorn to remain with him near the hearth for a few minutes to listen to the elves sing and play instruments. Rancelevon was almost immediately lost in the tales of far off lands and heroes, and even during the songs performed in another language, he felt he could understand them based on the tone. Sitting near Bilbo, with Aragorn standing beside them, Rancelevon fell into a peaceful doze.

**I have personally been to the valley which inspired Tolkien, at the age of nineteen, to make up Rivendell. I can say without a doubt that no amount of mental conditioning could make you indifferent to such beauty. It is an amazing place. Please leave a review! I would greatly appreciate it!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! School sort of got in the way. Perhaps I'll post another one sooner than normal to make up for it. Well, here you go. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

7

Aragorn walked slowly into the small room where Elrond awaited him and sat down. The lordly elf smiled when his foster son entered, but his mood was serious. Erestor, who had been standing near Elrond, bowed his head and exited quietly, closing the door behind him. Aragorn cleared his throat and looked Elrond in the eye.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," the elf replied. "I wish to speak to you of Rancelevon. Has he yet disclosed anything about his past to you?"

"No, but he is warming up by the hour," Aragorn said, trying to defend the man. "He barely hesitates to ask questions anymore, and he eagerly receives answers."

"What kinds of questions does he ask?"

"Well," the ranger said, trying to remember specific instances, "he did not seem to know about races other than Men, so he is curious about elves, dwarves, and hobbits. Of course Bilbo has gladly elaborated on the later."

Elrond grinned, but still his expression was somber. "It is a strange thing that he should know so little of the world around him."

"It is indeed," Aragorn consented. "I have felt curious emptiness behind his eyes at times, almost as if he were not a person at all, but part of one."

"I have seen this also. He has a thick darkness behind him," the elven lord said distantly, "and I fear he was once subjected to a great evil. That does not mean that he himself is willingly of this evil, but he must be cleansed of it."

"What do you propose?"

"That is the problem. It is difficult for me to give any counsel when I do not know the evil itself, or how it has affected him. His body has almost returned to health, but in order to truly heal his mind, we must know what was done to him, or what he did."

Aragorn frowned. "He has only been here three days. I would not deem it wise to press him in the matter. Perhaps he will reveal himself to us without our asking."

"It may be so," Elrond agreed, "but we cannot wait too long, or the damage may become exceedingly severe. I think that if in a week's time he had still remained silent concerning his own life and identity, we should attempt to coax the information out ourselves. Not in a demanding, coarse way, but as his friends."

Aragorn thought on what Elrond said and at last nodded. "Your great wisdom I will not question," he said as he stood. "Just so that my position is clear, I will say this. There is something about Rancelevon that makes me pity him. I believe he has suffered much, and in many different ways. I also believe it was Eru's will that I find him in the forest, and it may be our part in his tale to heal him. Let us not, therefore, despair if he is unwilling for a time to cooperate."

Elrond smiled softly and stood to his feet. He put a hand on Aragorn's shoulder and gazed over the ranger for a few seconds. "You have the wisdom of your sires, and a heart that pleases Eru. I am thankful for you."

Aragorn dipped his head modestly. "I received good teaching from the days of my youth."

With those words, the ranger dismissed himself. He walked from the room in which he had been seated and down toward the great hall. There, as he expected, he found Rancelevon sitting beside Bilbo, listening to the minstrels play with his eyes closed. At Aragorn's footsteps, he opened his eyes and gave a small smile.

"Ah, there you are, Dúnadan!" Bilbo exclaimed from his spot. "I was just going to chant the verses I composed about you to Rancelevon. They are not very good, perhaps, but they are to the point. Do you mind if I recite them?"

"Of course not, my good hobbit," the ranger replied. "They are quite flattering to me."

"Very well," Bilbo said, straightening on his stool and clearing his throat.

_All that is gold does not glitter,_

_Not all those who wander are lost;_

_The old that is strong does not wither,_

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost._

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_

_A light from the shadows shall spring;_

_Renewed shall be blade that was broken:_

_The crownless again shall be king._

Rancelevon was baffled by the poem's words. He had known that Aragorn was lordly and of high lineage, but these verses seemed to imply that he was heir to a kingship. The broken sword he had been cleaning must indeed be a special heirloom of great significance. Feeling suddenly different in the ranger's presence, Rancelevon held back his questions and straightened involuntarily. Aragorn laughed merrily when he saw Rancelevon's changed manner.

"I may be the heir of kings," he said in mirth, "but I am still a man like you. Do not fear! Many have behaved thus on hearing it, but you need not be hesitant. I desire to earn men's honor and respect, not be given it as a gift."

Rancelevon smiled warmly and nodded. He liked Aragorn. The ranger sat down near him and the two listened to the elves sing for quite some time. At last, the evening turned to night, and Aragorn arose.

"Would you mind my accompanying you to your room, Rancelevon? I have something I want to ask you."

Rancelevon nodded slowly, though he dreaded what Aragorn would ask him. He was still afraid to talk about his past, for he dreaded it himself. He knew now that he did not want to be the Soldier, but he was perplexed and frightened about being Bucky, especially after all he had done to Steve. If he were Bucky, he would have to take responsibility for trying to kill his friend, and Rancelevon certainly did not want to do so.

Finally, the two entered the room and Aragorn sat down in the same chair from which he had overseen Rancelevon's recovery. His kind smile made Rancelevon relax, and he sat down on the bed to listen to what Aragorn had to say.

"You are healing nicely, correct?"

"Yes."

"Would you be opposed to going hunting with me in the morning? I enjoy a good hunt, and I thought you might like to explore the woods and river below. Does that interest you?"

Rancelevon had never hunted anything other than his targets, and the idea was appealing. He had wanted to walk by the river, and it would be much more enjoyable if he went with Aragorn. He made up his mind and nodded.

"Great! I will come to wake you at dawn. Don't worry about getting anything prepared; I'll have it all ready."

Rancelevon nodded again and Aragorn stood up. "I hope you have a pleasant rest," the ranger said as he exited the room, easing the door closed behind him.

Rancelevon sat still for only a few moments before standing and changing into sleeping garments. In the solitude, his mind began racing again, something he had come no closer to controlling in the days he had been here. He had now remembered many details of Bucky's life, though he still thought independently of them. It was as if he were constantly gathering more information on someone he did not know instead of on himself. Only a few of the memories even felt real. The rest were just pictures and facts that had little effect on Rancelevon's conscious mind, and he was alright with that.

The face of Steve Rogers, on the other hand, did bother him. Every time that image came into his mind, he became nervous and afraid. His mind would repeat again and again the incident on the Helicarrier, and no matter how many times he had heard it, the words remained just as deadly as they had been when Steve actually said them.

_I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend._

Rancelevon clenched his teeth and slipped under the covers of his bed. He strained his ears, trying to hear the voices of the elven singers. He finally caught their melody, and closing his eyes, he tried to forget his struggles. Eventually, the music lulled him to sleep, but even then, Steve's face did not leave his mind for a second.

**You guys better brace yourselves: things are about to get interesting. Remember to review! The more feedback I get, the better I remember to put up new chapters!**

**As a side note, I know several of you have been hoping for a scene in which Bucky sees Elrond and freaks out, thinking back to the former leader of Hydra. I am sorry to disappoint, and indeed it would have made for a good encounter, but that will not be occurring. This is book verse as far as LOTR goes, so Master Elrond does not look like Hugo Weaving. But if you want to read something with a similar idea, go check out "The Avengers of the Ring" by Dr Matthatten, a wonderful story that includes Steve's response to Elrond. It's a great story that I highly recommend.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Here's the eighth chapter. I encourage you to read it all and get to my note at the end. If you stop halfway through in confusion at my choice of content, don't give up. And of course, don't forget to review! Feedback has been REALLY low the past few chapters, and it's not sending a great message. If you were in any way uplifted by this chapter, let me know!**

8

Rancelevon snapped his eyes open. Something was terribly wrong. Something was fighting in his mind, but not in the way it had been. This was a person, a real and distinct person, wrestling for control. It caught Rancelevon so off his guard that he did not know how to fight back, or even what exactly he was fighting.

Suddenly, before even a minute had passed since Rancelevon's waking, every piece of the puzzle in his mind clicked together. All the memories formed themselves into a history, and all the fragments of Bucky's thoughts fused. Bucky was himself again, not just in facts or feelings, but in whole. Rancelevon was Bucky.

Steve's face flashed in his thoughts, and the incident on the Helicarrier played itself again, as it before. However, this time it brought with it a terrible horror and anguish. When the realization hit him, of what he had done to innocents, what he had done to agents, and what he had done to his best friend, the air was knocked from his lungs as if by a battering ram. He buckled over and crashed on the floor, writhing in pain without relief. He was a traitor! He was a murderer! He had shot, stabbed, and punched Steve, his best friend from youth!

Tears flowed freely from his eyes, and he sucked in breaths shakily. He felt like he was choking, for his throat was almost closed, and he pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning on the bed's solid structure. He gripped the wooden frame with both hands and squeezed it, and the strength from his metal arm caused it to crack and groan. It was then that a knock sounded at the door, and Bucky remembered the hunt.

"Rancelevon?" the ranger's voice called from outside. Bucky only sat there, heaving deep breaths and weeping, unable to respond to Aragorn's calls.

Aragorn could not hear this from the other side of the door, but he felt that something was amiss. He opened the door and started forward as soon as he witnessed the tortured state of Rancelevon. He was hesitant to touch the man, for he remembered what Elrond had said about a darkness in him, but at last he laid a hand on the man's shoulder. It did not ease the crying.

"Rancelevon, what is wrong? Has something happened to you?" Aragorn asked in concern.

Bucky looked up into the ranger's eyes, searching desperately for relief. There was pity in them, but also wondering. Aragorn could not offer much help because he did not know why Bucky was upset. He didn't even know who Bucky_ was_.

"Rancelevon," Aragorn said soothingly, kneeling beside the man. "Come with me. If you desire to speak of what is causing you such terrible pain, I think your discomfort will be eased. If not, then at least let us ride so that you may forget for a while your torments."

Though Bucky wondered if he could ride at all in his present condition, he agreed with the faint hope that Aragorn's presence would bring comfort. The ranger helped him rise to his feet, and after Bucky had dressed, they both walked together to the stables. Two horses were already saddled and bridled, and Bucky knew enough about riding to manage on his own. Aragorn led the way down a trail, looking back every now and then only to see tears still falling from his companion's eyes. He was very worried about the man, but he said nothing for a while.

After about half an hour of riding, Aragorn stopped his horse in a small clearing at the river's side and dismounted. Bucky followed his example, now debating with himself about what he should tell the ranger. If Aragorn heard all the evil things Bucky had done, he might gallop off and leave him all alone. It would be just, Bucky knew, but he wasn't sure he could bear it.

"Rancelevon," the ranger began as they both sat down, "I know that your past causes you pain, but I beseech you to confide in me. You should not bear this heavy burden alone! For your own sake, do not keep inside what that poisons you."

Bucky made his decision, looking into the ranger's grey eyes which gleamed in the morning sun. Breathing in a shaky breath, he began his tale and told it in full, not telling any falsehood or sparing any vital detail. Aragorn listened in wonder and silence, giving away no emotion through his expression. When Bucky finally finished relating his encounter with the troll, he became quiet.

For several minutes, neither spoke. Bucky desperately wanted Aragorn to say something, even if it was what he feared. The suspense built up, and when Bucky could wait no longer, he broke into tears again.

"What can I ever do, Aragorn? I am the most wretched man alive!"

The ranger had tears in his own eyes, but he kept them contained as he spoke. "I believe you must repent. You must go to those whom you have wronged and ask their forgiveness."

"But Aragorn," Bucky sobbed, "most of them are dead! I was an assassin, and there are only couple of targets I failed to kill."

"That is beside the point," Aragorn said firmly, but still kindly. "If there is even one person that you have yet to apologize to, your duty is unfinished. It is your responsibility to express your knowledge of your wrongs and to ask them to forgive you."

"Even if they do," Bucky cried, "even if they were all alive and they all forgave me, I could never wipe out all the blood on my conscious. The world would be better off if I were to leave it now."

"Absolutely not!" Aragorn said sternly, rising to his feet. "Eru created you for a purpose, and taking your own life is just as much murder as taking someone else's."

Eru. Bucky had heard people mention that name before, and he was under the impression that this Eru was like the God of his own world. He had attended church hundreds of times, though that was all before the war, and he had not given God much thought since then. If God were really real and good, then He would never have let Bucky be tortured, right?

"If taking my own life is wrong, what is _not_ wrong?" Bucky demanded. "How can I make up for all that I've done? Apologizing doesn't erase anything; it just keeps more evil from coming."

"I know," Aragorn admitted. "I will give you my counsel, though I cannot say I have experience in such matters, and what I say will be difficult.

"Go to Steve and beg his forgiveness. He seems like a man who will grant it to you with joy. Then go to this Natasha woman, and perhaps the flying man, and any others you can think of. First and foremost, however, I believe you should seek out a man with knowledge of how Eru works in your own world and learn how to receive forgiveness from Him who made you."

"But don't you know?"

"I know how the process operates here," Aragorn said. "We await a time when Eru will come among us to pay for our sins. Until then, we are given righteousness by faith in our savior to come. In your world, it might be different. Eru might have already come. He may have even given you specific instructions about forgiveness. If there are any, find them. Eru is perfect, and while He is willing to grant forgiveness those who ask for it, He is wrathful against sin. Do not assume that He will let your wickedness pass by unnoticed."

Bucky nodded, knowing the ranger's words were true. The idea of God giving a terrible man like him saving grace did seem like a stretch, but he decided not to worry about it until he had returned home. At that thought, he began to wonder how he was to get home again at all since he had no idea how he had been sent to Imladris in the first place.

"How shall I ask forgiveness of those who are in another world?" Bucky inquired aloud.

"Let Eru handle that," Aragorn said. "Just wait on His timing."

"What do I do until then?"

The ranger shrugged. "Go hunting, perhaps?"

Bucky smiled and nodded. But before Aragorn mounted his horse again, Bucky stepped forward and embraced him. The ranger was surprised by the gesture after having observed the man for days and receiving only a few smiles, but he returned the hug gladly.

"Thank you, Aragorn," Bucky said as he pulled back. "You remind me of Steve: you always try to help others, no matter what the cost is to yourself. Thank you."

Aragorn considered the comparison to Steve one of highest possible compliments, and he bowed his head in modesty. Both men then mounted their horses and began trotting down the trail again, feeling much better than they had at the beginning of the trek.

**Yes, I included Christian ideas into this story. I realize that many of you out there might not hold to my beliefs, and that doesn't mean you have to stop reading. You can just disagree: this is not a story only for Christians. In my defense, Tolkien was a very strong Christian, and Middle Earth was made with a biblical worldview in mind. I could go back and forth argueing with people about the author not intending allegory, but if you read the beginning of the Silmarillion, there shouldn't be too much debate. Middle Earth has one Being over all, just like the Christian God, and His name is Eru. I will give a longer explanation of all this later. Don't abandon the story yet on account of the mention of God! I promise I will give you a much better reason for the addition of religion in the near future! In the meantime, PLEASE review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Welcome to chapter 9. I hope y'all enjoy it. Please review!**

9

"That is quite a tale," Elrond said, leaning back in his chair. He had been speaking with Aragorn on the subject of their guest's past for some time, and the elf was frankly baffled. "And you believe what he says to be true?"

"I do," Aragorn confirmed with a nod. "It is in his eyes."

Elrond thought on all Aragorn had told him. The story was beyond anything he had heard in his life, which was a very long time. He did not doubt the tale, for if Rancelevon had wanted to tell a lie, he would have made it more plausible. The elf did, however, find it difficult to comprehend all that was said, especially since the whole story took place in a world completely outside of his experience. When at last he had accepted the facts, he sighed.

"If I had known his darkness was so great, I would have done something sooner. I did not realize it was causing him so much pain."

"Neither did I," Aragorn said. "This 'HYDRA' he speaks of trained him to not feel pain, or at least not like we do. It is only by the grace of Eru that light has breached the total night of his heart."

"Indeed," the Elrond consented. "What is his plan now that he knows himself and his guilt?"

"I have told him to seek forgiveness, and I believe he will when he returns to his world. He seems eager to do what is right after so many years of nothing but evil. Until Eru sends him back to his land, he wishes to remain in Imladris, with your blessing of course."

"He will have it," Elrond replied with a grin. The Lord of Rivendell stood from his seat and stepped toward the door of the small room. "I am glad to have been written into the tale of his healing, and to have witnessed such an awakening."

"As am I," Aragorn said, following the elf to the exit. "It was truly like the rising of the sun, or the beginning of a fire." Then, in a quiet voice, he whispered a part of Bilbo's poem. "From the ashes a fire shall be woken. A light from the shadow shall spring."

"So it has been," Elrond agreed. Just before turning the handle on the door, he paused and looked Aragorn in the eye. "He does not wish to discuss his past with others yet, I deem."

"It is still difficult for him to speak of it," Aragorn answered, "though he no longer carries the same kind of burden as he did before. Obviously he has allowed me to tell you of it, but I think we should not mention it much until he has gone to his homeland."

Elrond nodded slowly, and then looked up with a hint of jest in his eyes and tone. "So shall we call Rancelevon or Bucky?"

Aragorn grinned. "I think either one will be acceptable."

With that, the ranger went out. He walked down the halls to the familiar sight of Bilbo and Bucky listening to the elves sing. Bilbo had a stack of parchment on his lap, and he kept looking up and speaking with Bucky before scribbling down more notes. The ranger entered the room and greeted them cordially.

"Good afternoon, my friends. How do you two fare?"

"Quite well, Dúnadan," the hobbit said without looking up. "Rancelevon is telling me more of his first encounter with you. I am writing the long-anticipated song to tell that great tale. Someday it will be sung among all peoples!"

Bucky and Aragorn looked at each other and smiled. The elderly hobbit continued to write away as Aragorn approached the warm hearth and sat down. It felt strange to sit beside someone who had done and suffered so much, but the feeling soon passed. Bucky was his friend, and that was how he would treat him.

The afternoon passed by quickly. The three mortals worked and laughed over their song while the elves continued to make their music on the other side of the room. Bucky, now able to consciously enjoy the experience, had happiness that he had not known since he was with Steve and the Howling Commandos in 1945. A part of him wished he could remain in Imladris forever, though his desire to see Steve was much stronger.

At about five o'clock, the boar Aragorn and Bucky had killed on their hunt had finished cooking, and the great hall filled with guests. The dinner was delicious, as always, and Bucky contributed to the conversation almost normally. The dwarves were particularly fascinated with his arm, and when he had made it plain that he was willing to talk, they asked him countless questions about it. The guests spoke together late into the evening, until the moon had risen and most people retired.

When the hall had cleared out, Bucky went out to the edge of the balcony and stared over the valley, taking in every detail that he could. The stars shone brightly, and the river sparkled like glass beneath them. The only sounds were trees stirring in the wind and birds giving their last calls of the day. It was truly the picture of splendor, and though it calmed the pain he still bore, no beauty could erase it. Aragorn's words had soothed him greatly, but he was still guilty, and he was inclined to doubt that he could receive complete forgiveness from anyone.

"What do you think on, Bucky?" Aragorn asked as he stepped up to his friend's side. "You seem troubled."

"The blood covering my hands," Bucky said. He desperately wished he could have given a different reply, but somehow he could not lie to Aragorn. "Tonight I enjoyed myself more than I have since . . . I don't know. But when I'm alone, or when memories are sparked, I cannot seem to find relief."

"Your healing will be complete when you return to your world," Aragorn assured him.

"But we don't know when that will happen, if it ever does. We have no control over it!" Bucky cried. He clenched his fists as he thought of Steve, and his eyes misted over with tears. He could not imagine what it was like for Steve to be shot by his best friend or to be beat over and over by one who was once as dear as a brother. He wanted to make it as right as he could as soon as he could.

Aragorn put his hand on Bucky's shoulder firmly. "Pray about it."

Bucky laughed sarcastically, shaking his head. "I haven't prayed since I was a kid, and I certainly have no right to do so now."

Aragorn shrugged. "I'm telling you what I believe you should do, not what is most comfortable or logical. Eru will send you back when He is ready, so you needn't carry your guilt as you do now. It will work out for the greatest good, so do not worry."

"That's easy for you to say," Bucky replied in frustration. He immediately regretted it, and when he looked into Aragorn's eyes, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Aragorn. I appear to be falling victim of self-pity."

"A dangerous trap," the ranger said solemnly, "but not necessarily a permanent one."

Aragorn stood silently beside Bucky for several minutes before bidding him a good night. Bucky returned the polite blessing and remained on the balcony, listening to the water falls in the distance. When he became tired, he went to his quarters and lay down. He thought about what Aragorn had said, and although he did not feel it would do any good, he decided to try to pray.

"Our Father, which art in heaven," he began, trying to quote the Lord's Prayer as he had learned it when he was a child. "Hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors."

He paused as he considered those words. Was that how Eru forgave in his world? Just because a person asked? Bucky knew there had to be more to it than that, for Aragorn said that Eru could not tolerate sin. He vaguely remembered something about God's Son coming to earth and then being martyred, but he could not recollect how that applied. Shaking the confusion from his head, he continued to pray.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: for Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. And please let me go home soon so that I can try to find You and find peace. Amen."

Unsatisfied with his prayer, but without alternatives, Bucky closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He felt like his supplication was more of a ceremony instead of a plea, especially since he did not fully understand the words of the prayer, but he hoped that it would work. He really did believe that such a being as Eru existed, for Aragorn was more than trustworthy, and several logical arguments led to that conclusion. However, Bucky felt a fear in the depths of his heart in regard to God, and he was not sure he really _wanted_ to come to know Him.

"Well, if that's what it takes to get peace," Bucky muttered to himself, "then I'll give it a go." He fell asleep quickly.

**I tried to think of what someone's first try at a prayer would be like if they had no proper teaching, and since many people, even non-Christians, know the Lord's Prayer, I decided Bucky should use it in his first attempt. What do you guys think? **

**If any of you wondered what the logical proofs of the existence of God are, I would be more than happy to talk about it. One of my dead best friends (yes, I have several of them, but I can assure you that I am [mostly] sane), named Francis Schaeffer loved to talk about Christianity as a logical worldview, not a blind leap of faith. He has some really great points, and I would be thrilled to discuss them with anyone who is interested.**

**Now, please leave me some feedback!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: This chapter is somewhat short, but the next will be very long, I promise. A big thanks to those who review: I am taking your advice into consideration. When I finish posting everything, I will probably go back and edit according to your reviews. For those of you who have not reviewed, now is your chance!**

10

It was just after dawn that Bucky awoke. He sat up, and looking out his open window, he saw that it was quite a pleasant morning. He stood and ventured out of his room and onto a balcony, taking deep draughts of fresh air and straining his ears for any signs of other people in the area. He heard nothing, and seeing a few figures on the river bank, he decided to take the walk to the shore himself.

It was an easy, ten minute walk to the water's edge. When Bucky had reached it, he recognized the people near the river as Aragorn, Elladan, and Elrohir. They appeared to have a predetermined path, which made Bucky assume they were about a task, but when they spotted him, they made their way toward him.

"Good morning, Rancelevon," Elrohir said pleasantly. "Did you rest well?"

"Yes, thank you," Bucky replied. "Are you three about anything particular?"

"Not in the strictest sense," Aragorn replied. "We were planning on saddling up and scouting out Rivendell's western border soon, though right now we are only discussing the matter. With trolls so close to the road, we must assess the situation closer to our own lands before evil can gain any footholds."

"Would you like to accompany us?" Elladan asked politely.

"No thanks," Bucky declined. "I think I've had enough of trolls for a while."

They all four laughed together. "I guess Estel still needs to learn his lesson," Elrohir chuckled, "though I doubt he will do so in daylight, when all trolls will be in their caves."

"If we are to be back for sure tonight," Elladan said, "I think we should start out soon."

"I agree," Aragorn said. "Let us make what preparations are needed and be off within the hour. Shall I fill our water skins while you two saddle the horses?"

"We will meet you at the stable," Elrohir said. "Don't be too long." With that, the sons of Elrond walked off together, leaving Aragorn and Bucky temporarily alone.

"I must go fetch the skins," the ranger said, turning to face his companion directly. "But you could walk with me if you wish."

"Certainly," Bucky said, stepping to Aragorn's side and following him down the river's side. As they walked, Bucky became slowly aware of a strange sensation. He lifted his right arm and noticed that he had goose bumps, and he felt as one does before they are electrocuted. Suddenly he remembered that he had experienced this same feeling right before plunging into the dark abyss in the museum.

"Are you alright?" Aragorn asked, having felt nothing.

Just when the ranger finished speaking, the darkness appeared only a few feet ahead. Aragorn saw it, but he was not drawn into it as Bucky was. However, to Bucky's joy, the force pulling him was not totally irresistible as it had been before, and he found he had time for a brief farewell.

"Good bye, Aragorn," he said, wrapping his arms quickly around his friend. "I believe this is my door to home, and it's pulling me through."

"Farewell then, Bucky Rancelevon," the ranger said, returning the hug. "Give my regards to Steve when you see him. And remember to seek forgiveness, and to find peace in Eru!"

"I will," Bucky said, slowly slipping toward the small void. "Thank you for helping me to healing, and for everything else. You have been a true friend. Tell dear Bilbo farewell for me. Become a good king!"

The darkness swallowed him entirely, and he vanished from Aragorn's sight. The darkness disappeared only a few seconds after Bucky, and in the space of one minute, Isildur's heir went from a common walk with a comrade to standing in a state of shock all alone.

Everything had happened so quickly that Aragorn felt almost cheated. Not only had he just met Bucky a few days ago, but the man's departure had been both unexpected and very short. There was so much Aragorn had desired to discuss with Bucky and to say himself, but now he would never have the chance.

"I hope our paths cross again," Aragorn said aloud, though there was no Bucky to hear him. "But until then, may Eru bless you richly!"

He walked slowly back to the house, his expression sober. Because the whole adventure of Bucky seemed to have only lasted a very short while, Aragorn found himself wishing his friend had stayed, and that he could have gotten to know him better. Despite this, he knew it would ease Bucky's pain to go home, and that was what Aragorn wanted most. The news would still be hard to break to Bilbo though, no matter what was best for Bucky.

Aragorn soon reached the house and went immediately to Elrond to notify him of Bucky's departure. He walked to the study's door and knocked, stepping back and waiting for a response. Erestor opened the door, smiling when he saw Aragorn.

"Good morning, Estel."

"Good morning, Erestor," Aragorn replied. "Where is Lord Elrond?"

"He is here, sitting at his desk."

"May I speak with him?"

"Of course."

Erestor moved aside and Aragorn entered the study. Just as Erestor had said, Elrond was seated at his desk, looking over various papers. At Aragorn's entry, the elf stood up and greeted his foster son with a smile.

"So the troll trackers have not yet gone abroad?" Elrond laughed.

"No, though we are about to depart. I have come to bring you some news, which is both good and sorrowful. Bucky has left, or to say it more correctly, he was taken to his own land. It was quite sudden, but I believe he will be safe."

Elrond was silent for a moment, pondering what he had just heard and acknowledging the information with only a nod. "I wish him the best," the elf said at last. "I think Eru has great things in store for him."

"I perceive this also," Aragorn agreed, "and I am glad of it."

"Enjoy your scouting trip," Elrond said, sitting back down. "I must now attend to my duties, but we will talk of this in greater detail later. Would you like me to tell Master Baggins?"

"No; I'll inform him on my way out," Aragorn said, feeling a responsibility to tell his friend of the matter directly. He dipped his head to Elrond in respect and exited the room. He walked down the hallway and onto a balcony with many flowers where Bilbo often spent his mornings. He found the hobbit on a bench among the plants, reading from a small book on his lap.

"Bilbo," the ranger began, sitting down on the bench. "Eru called Rancelevon back to his own world this morning. He was sorry he could not say his farewell to you personally, but he told me to wish you good fortune."

The hobbit looked up, at first surprised, but he then calmed down. "I figured his departure might be sudden," Bilbo revealed as he turned his eyes back to his book, "but I thought that I might finish the song before he left. It's a pity he shall never hear it, or at least not for a while."

"We shall see," Aragorn said distantly. "We may meet him again yet."

"I certainly hope so," the hobbit said, turning the page and pretending to be interested in the volume below him.

Aragorn nodded and sighed. "As do I."

**It was a very quick and sudden departure, I know. However, this story is only going to have about fifteen chapters, and I didn't want to stretch it out forever. You are near the end, more or less. Keep on reading and PLEASE review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Alright, here's a nice long chapter. I saved it for today, the day the Winter Soldier came out on DVD in the States (I am sure my readers from other countries are laughing now, but you should pity me: I had to wait until today!). I humbly but adamantly request that you read the entire chapter and author's note, as some of the content will be controversial and I don't want you to get half the picture. An explanation and defense will be given at the end. I hope you enjoy, and remember to review!**

11

Bucky was standing in the Smithsonian, in the exact same place as he had been before getting pulled to Aragorn's world. Looking around, Bucky saw, to his surprise, some of members of the large group he had joined to smuggle himself into the museum. It seemed that no time had passed at all since he left. However, upon examining himself, Bucky realized that he still wore his clothes from Imladris. Running his hand across his face, he could feel the scars from his encounter with the troll, and the small beard he now had as a result of not shaving for many days.

"Excuse me, sir," an older security guard said, approaching Bucky from the side. "Are you alright? Can I help you with anything?"

Bucky quickly shoved his exposed silver hand into a pocket. The hesitance to speak that he had possessed as the Soldier came back to him, but he brushed it aside, knowing he must act normally. "No, thank you."

The guard nodded without looking convinced and began to walk back to his station when Bucky remembered that he did have a question. "Wait," he called, his voice bringing the man to face him again.

"Yes?"

"Do you know this area of the city very well?"

"Born and bred here. Why?"

"I need…" Bucky felt his question would sound stupid, and he sighed as he trailed off. Then, as Aragorn's face and advice came into his mind, his resolve hardened. "Could you direct me to the nearest church?"

The guard raised his eyebrows, but he did answer the question. "When you exit the building, take the first road to your left down about five blocks. There's a church on the corner, but I can't recall the name. It's a pretty small building, but it should have a sign or something. Does that help at all?"

"Yes," Bucky replied, thanking the man with a dip of his head. He then turned to the exit and walked out, following the man's instructions as quickly as he could.

The church was located just where the guard had said, and when Bucky reached it, he stood outside its doors and looked it over. The sign hanging above the door named the institution _Steadfast Hope Bible Church_, and it displayed the service times beneath. Bucky was not sure which day of the week it was, but he was fairly certain it was not Sunday, and he began to wonder what he was supposed to do. Would the church be open on week days? Even if it was, Bucky had no idea how to ask the questions he had, nor even who to ask. He sighed in frustration with himself, but he knew he could not just leave. Reaching forward, he tried the nob and found it unlocked. Drawing in a breath, he opened the door and walked inside.

There was one long, wide room containing several long pews. A thin aisle stretched to a platform which had a podium, piano, and several microphone stands. The room was empty, but Bucky could hear some sort of commotion coming from a small doorway on the left wall, suggesting that someone was there. He let the door fall shut behind him as he moved cautiously forward, unsure of what to do.

The noise from the other hall eventually became clear enough for Bucky to distinguish it as a conversation. He watched the doorway and waited for the people to come out, hoping that they would be either easy to talk with or quick to send him away. He was not sure which choice he would prefer. Finally, two men entered the large room, one old enough to be in his forties or fifties and the other barely an adult. When they saw Bucky, they stopped their conversation and headed in his direction, smiling politely.

"Good afternoon," the older man greeted. "Can we do something for you?"

Bucky again felt hesitant to speak, but he had told Aragorn he would pursue knowledge of Eru, and this was the time to do it. "I need to learn about God."

The question was surprisingly forward to the men, but they were not displeased in the slightest. The younger immediately volunteered to finish the work they had been about, giving the elder an opportunity to speak with Bucky. With a gesturing hand, the older man led Bucky to the front pew and sat down with him.

"I am Daniel Hamilton, the senior pastor of Steadfast Hope Bible Church. May I have your name?"

"James," Bucky replied, "but most people call me Bucky."

The pastor extended a hand, and Bucky shook it, all the while keeping his left hand safely hidden in his pocket. He now remembered that his clothes must look very strange, but Daniel did not seem to mind. The man was very friendly, with a deep voice and wise eyes, and Bucky was glad to speak with someone who felt like a father or uncle instead of a teacher.

"Before I begin any of my ramblings," Daniel said with a smile, "I would like to ask you a question: what causes you to want to find God?"

Bucky was silent for a moment, and Daniel elaborated on his inquiry. "Many people come to church in order to have success in their business, to save their marriage, or to get good friends. While some of these things can be side-effects of the faith, they are not its purpose. I just want to understand your desires so I can accurately guide what I say."

"I don't want material things," Bucky assured him. "I don't have a relationship problem." The terrible confession was the last thing Bucky wanted to say, but he knew he had to, or at least he had to allude to it. "I need forgiveness," he said quietly. "Not just for little things."

"Then you've come to the right place," Daniel told him with a grin. "Though, you must realize that Christianity grants forgiveness as the means to an end, not the end itself."

"What is the end, then?"

"Christ is the end. He is the good news, and forgiveness reconciles us to Him."

"Then tell me how to get reconciliation."

The pastor cleared his throat and looked Bucky in the eye. His gaze was full of pity, but somehow it also seemed to demand conviction, and Bucky averted his eyes. His hands began to shake as he remembered mission after mission and kill after kill, and he felt as if a great weight had been placed on his shoulders. Suddenly, he was very afraid and very desperate, and he forced his eyes back to Daniel.

"Help me," he said in a shaky whisper.

"God made you," Daniel began. "He made everything in existence. He made it all good. However, mankind fell when the first man, Adam, disobeyed God's law, and as a result we all bear a corrupted nature. We are all, as John Calvin once said, master craftsmen of idols even from our mother's womb. Since God is perfect and holy, He cannot allow us in His presence."

Bucky remembered Aragorn having said something of that nature, and he became more confident that what he was hearing was true. Pushing out all conflicting thoughts of doubt, he attuned his mind to what Daniel said.

"We all deserve eternal punishment for our sins," the pastor continued, "but God loves us. Despite all the thousands and millions of times when we have rejected Him and disobeyed Him, He still loves us. Because of this, He put into action the plan He had made from before creation: He sent His Son into the world."

"But He made everything good," Bucky interjected, "so how could He have planned something to fix evil if evil was not yet created? Surely He didn't make evil, right?"

"Correct, but when He created everything, He ordained evil."

Bucky cocked his head to one side, and Daniel elaborated. "If God's will had ultimately been that no evil should come into the world, He would not have made anyone with the ability to choose it. He knew what would happen, and in fact willed it to come to pass. Therefore, what has transpired has all been according to His predetermined plan, even if His sovereignty over some events was what we might call passive. It wasn't passive in the true sense of the word, but this is supposed to be a short explanation, so I will say it for now. Do you follow?" Bucky nodded slowly.

"God's plan is that scenario out of all possibilities which brings Him the most glory, not because He is selfish, but because He deserves it. Thus sin was allowed so that God's love might be shown at its fullest, and through that, He gets the most possible glory. But I was just getting to that love.

"As I was saying, God sent His Son into the world. Jesus is His name, and He is just as much God as the Father is. He took on flesh and blood, humanity without sin, and lived an absolutely blameless life. He was mercilessly killed, and His death sufficiently covers all sins. How? Because God poured out on His Son the wrath He had in store for us. Jesus suffered what we deserved; He was our substitute. That is the extent God's love! He did not spare His own Son, but punished Him for my sins! Jesus willingly stood in my place, even though the only thing I could offer Him is my wretchedness. Glorious!

"But the story does not end there. After three days, Jesus rose from the dead, and now He sits at the right hand of the Father, who has given Him all power and authority. Through faith in Jesus and the true repentance of sins that comes with it, we can receive the Holy Spirit, the third Person of the Trinity, and be justified. That means that when God sees us, He sees the righteousness of Christ, which has been imputed to us. We are made heirs with Jesus! Do you hear me? We, sinners, are treated by the Father as if we were Jesus himself! How could you not love a God such as this?"

The thought of complete forgiveness at such a price for God's Son, but free for sinners, seemed far too good to actually be true. Despite this, Bucky could not keep himself from desiring it, and all he wanted in the world was to know that peace. He looked up pleadingly to Daniel, his whole body shivering now.

"How does one get this faith?"

"As I said, mankind is infected with an evil nature," Daniel said. "On our own, we will never seek God, as Paul tells us in Romans 3. However, God chose some before the foundations of the world, and He gives them faith. It's not based on their merit or potential; just on His will. He pulls them to Himself with an irresistible grace, and He freely bestows faith to them."

"I want it," Bucky said in a hoarse whisper. "I _need_ it. I need Him."

"If you recognize this," Daniel said, putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder, "and you are repentant, then you should praise God. Salvation and eternal life are yours."

Bucky looked up in wonder, for the concept appeared implausible. Surely one could not receive forgiveness by faith alone? And even if they could, he could never qualify, given what he had done. His conscious was so dirty; salvation could _not_ be his so easily!

"But I've done so much evil!" Bucky protested. "You don't understand! I've _killed_ people!"

Bucky had not had any intention of spilling that detail, but it flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. Daniel was taken aback, but there was no fear in his eyes. Clearly this was his first experience with a murderer, though not his first with a sinner in need. He stared straight into Bucky's eyes and spoke with power.

"Jesus' righteousness is more powerful than your sin. It can cover any wrong, whether a little white lie or the genocide of a million people. All sins are cleansed; there is now therefore no condemnation for those who are in Jesus Christ. Those are God's own words, and He is trustworthy. All you must do is believe Him, Bucky. Then you will truly know peace and joy, for those words are merely flimsy attempts of language to describe what God's presence is like. Believe in Christ, and run to Him."

Tears welled up in Bucky's eyes, and in a state of utter humility, he surrendered. He bent over and wept, and as he wept he prayed. It was not as he had prayed last night in Rivendell, but as a plea from a wretch for mercy from the Lord. Daniel kept his hand on Bucky's shoulder and remained silent, but his presence alone was a soothing balm for Bucky. They stayed that way for some time, until at last Bucky sat up straight again, still sniffing.

"Is it really as simple as believing?" he asked.

"In a sense yes, and in a sense no," Daniel said. "If you have faith, you have salvation. Your sins are forgiven, and you will never have to earn anything from God. Christ will be your inheritance, and no sin can take that fact away. However, now that you are a child of God, you are not of this world, and you will be hated by it. People will reject you because of your faith, but your eternal reward is so great that these will seem as simple trials."

The thought of rejection did not faze Bucky at all. He felt relief as he had never known wash all over him, even though the whole experience still seemed surreal. How did he know this faith was true? It had all happened so fast that he began to encounter doubting thoughts again.

"How can I know that God has chosen me?" Bucky asked.

"Do you desire God, even if it means you must give up your sinful ways?" Daniel inquired in response.

"Yes."

"That desire is not natural. It only comes to the elect. Right now what you need to do is pursue Christ, not think on whether you have, as many people erroneously say, 'accepted Christ'. God is the one who regenerates your heart, and He who began a good work in you will carry it on until the day of completion. Your salvation is secure in God's sovereignty."

Bucky thought on what Daniel said. He had the sudden longing for more information, and he reeled at the memory of countless Sundays when he had sat through a sermon and disregarded all the precious knowledge. Something was indeed different about his heart now, though as he looked back, he now saw that God had been working on him for a while.

"It still seems like too much," Bucky said.

"That feeling will never go away," Daniel replied with a smile. "But we must trust what God says, even if it appears far too glorious to be true. He has proven Himself faithful."

Bucky smiled. For the first time in so long, he was free. Many hard things remained for him to do, but if he died that second, he was guiltless. The thought made him giddy, and he could not seem to wipe the grin from his face now. Daniel noticed it and his own smile grew larger. However, there was more he needed to say.

"Bucky, faith in Jesus makes you right before God, but if you have sins unforgiven by men, you should-"

"Seek forgiveness from them?" Bucky finished. "A good friend of mine told me to do so, after I sought out forgiveness from God."

"He was right." Daniel paused, slightly hesitant about his next question. "You said that you had killed people…" he trailed off. Bucky nodded solemnly. "Have you…did you…were you arrested for that?"

Bucky shook his head. He sighed and chuckled a little in spite of the moment. He slowly drew his left hand out of his pocket, exposing it to Daniel's sight. The pastor's eyes grew wide, and his mouth parted. Bucky was not sure if the man knew of the Winter Soldier's recent doings, or if the sight of such an arm alone was enough to bring on shock, but he did not wait for any further response.

"I will turn myself in to the authorities," Bucky announced, "but I've got to speak to a few individuals first. One in particular."

**Okay, so you know how earlier I gave reasons for adding Christian ideas into this story? I said that Tolkien's worldview contained them, so it would be canon to have Aragorn give that advice. Well, that's true, but it's not the whole reason. Not by a long shot.**

**I put in Christian ideas because I love Bucky. Plain and simple. And if I want Bucky to find true peace, there is only one plausible course of action: he had to find Christ. The truth is, no matter what the people screaming about tolerance say, salvation is through Christ alone. You will never have true joy, peace, reconciliation, or love without Him. I wanted Bucky to have those things, so I brought in the gospel. I also hoped that maybe, just maybe, someone reading this story would hear God's glorious truth and be moved by it, whether they've heard it a thousand times or just this once. What Pastor Hamilton said is true! You can find perfect peace in God! If you shake your head and roll your eyes because it all sounds like a myth, I challenge you to read the Bible. Just try to prove God wrong. You will find that His Word is absolutely true, and His grace is absolutely real. It is in no way weak to ask questions either. Please send me a message if you want to discuss this at all, even if you don't think you'll ever be convinced. I would love to talk to you!**

**I realize also that Bucky's conversion seemed very fast. There are a couple things I want to say about that. First, God has been working on his heart for a while. Second, this is a short story, and I can't go into a long conversion. So, although I suppose most conversions aren't so fast, this one was. You'll just have to accept it. **

**I hope you guys stick around. The story is coming to a close, and Steve will make his first appearance very soon. Please leave me some reviews!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: This chapter is a fulfillment of my desire ever since I saw the movie for the first time. I hope y'all like it. I know it's kind of short, but there's only a few more chapters to go after this, and I will probably post a little more quickly now. Of course, there would be no question about my haste if you guys would just review. Review!**

12

"I cannot thank you enough for all you've done for me," Bucky said as he stood on Daniel's front porch. The sun was just climbing over the horizon, and while Bucky wanted to express his gratitude thoroughly for the pastor's hospitality and willingness to answer countless questions, he was anxious to find Steve.

"It was no trouble at all," Daniel replied with a friendly smile. "I am simply glad to be used by God to further His kingdom. I wish you strength as you do the right thing, despite the hardships it may bring."

"Again, I thank you."

"If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to come to me. I'll always be here for you."

Bucky nodded and waved to his friend before setting his face toward the street. He started walking in the direction of the Helicarrier incident, hoping to find Steve in whatever hospital was closest to it. He had shaved his beard and taken a cleansing shower while in Daniel's home. The kind pastor had even given him normal clothes and a glove to hide his metallic hand, saying it was a way for him to gratefully obey God's commands to help the needy. Bucky hoped to repay Daniel someday, though it looked as if he might be in prison for a while.

It took about half an hour of wandering to find the damaged Triskelion building and the wreckage of the Helicarriers. Cops and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were crawling all over the area, both in the debris field and in a wide perimeter, and Bucky feared that he would be recognized. However, he soon spotted a hospital on a nearby road, and he made for it without drawing any attention to himself. It seemed to be a pretty straight shot from where Bucky had pulled Steve from the water, and Bucky decided to try it out with the assumption that whoever had found Cap would take him to the closest doctors. He entered the door and waited patiently at the front desk.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" the receptionist asked.

"I am looking for a Steve Rogers," Bucky said, only realizing after he had finished his sentence that Cap's location could be classified from the public.

"No visitors are authorized to see him," the lady said with a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Only close friends and family."

Bucky smiled inwardly at her statement. Even if he had to break into the room, at least he would still be following the rules. "Oh, I'm sorry. Thank you for your time."

Bucky walked out of the hospital and sighed. He examined the building closely, noting all the details he could. It was only three stories high, and surely Steve would have been removed to a recovery room by now. That meant that he was probably not on the first floor. Although that still left many rooms to choose from, Bucky did not let that deter him.

He walked across the street to a two-story restaurant and ascended to the highest point. He found a window facing the hospital and drew from a pocket one of the only items he had left besides his blade: a magnifying lens. He waited a few minutes as a couple customers cleared out, and then he utilized his time alone. He held the device up to his eye and gazed through it into each hospital window, hoping that Steve's would be unobstructed by curtains or shutters.

He looked over the entire second floor and did not see anything that would indicate his target was there. Looking up higher still, he at last laid eyes on what he sought. Halfway across the third story, Bucky could see the standing figure of the man who had worn the bird-like flight suit. He seemed to be saying a farewell to someone, and though Bucky could not see the bed or patient, he had strong reasons to believe that it was Steve. He quickly made his way out of the restaurant and toward the alleyway to the hospital's right, hoping there would be a fire escape to take him to his destination.

His hopes were not in vain. Several series of staircases led all the way to the roof, and Bucky was on the building's top in less than a minute. He carefully counted rooms as he passed above them until he came to Steve's. He dropped silently onto the small balcony outside window and remained out of sight. He listened carefully, knowing he could not enter if someone else were there. When he was sure that Steve was alone, he peered around the wall's corner to assess the situation inside.

As he had deduced, no visitors or nurses were in the room. A single hospital bed with its headboard against the wall was in the room's center with a couple chairs at various angles around it. The patient himself was lying peacefully on the bed with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling softly. He was not asleep, but neither was he giving any attention to his surroundings. Bucky felt his heart beat heavily in his chest.

Now that it came to the moment, Bucky was afraid. He felt the guilt of what he had done weigh upon him again, and he could not think of anything adequate to say to his dearest of friends. What if Steve did not forgive him? Bucky's hands balled into fists, and as he remembered what Daniel had said, he told himself that it did not ultimately matter what Steve did. He was already forgiven by God, and that meant he had no condemnation.

"Steve," Bucky said in a shaky whisper. He barely recognized his own emotion-filled voice, and as the words came out, his eyes grew moist.

Steve's eyes quickly snapped open at the unexpected noise, and he gasped when he saw Bucky standing in the room. He too thought of the Helicarrier, but he also remembered all his promises of friendship, and not for a second did he regret his passive actions during the fight.

"Buck?" Steve asked in disbelief.

Bucky stepped nearer to his friend's bed, but stopped a few feet from it. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. How could he apologize for trying to kill his brother? What words could express the feeling of sorrow and anguish trapped in Bucky's heart? At last he settled for the most unoriginal sentence in the history of repentance.

"I'm so sorry."

That was all he could say before he broke down. Kneeling on the floor, he wept and wept, unable to stop and without desire to. Steve looked at his friend with wide and pitiful eyes, and despite his pain, he raised himself into a sitting position. Gritting his teeth against the fire shooting through his nerves, he reached out his hand and set it on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky's face rose up and his eyes met those of Steve. The two men sat there, transfixed, for several minutes without articulating any kind of thought.

Finally, Steve gave Bucky a warm smile, and Bucky knew he was forgiven. The ecstasy of that moment was too much for Bucky's mind to handle, and he wept again, though this time for joy. Steve pushed himself from the bed and knelt down beside his friend, wrapping him in an embrace beyond description. Nothing, not years, not torture, not forgetfulness, and not wounds could break the bond between those men. They had proven their friendship true.

**Did you like it? Let me know!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Here's the thirteenth chapter, which is also somewhat short, but I got it to you a day early, so you should be glad. There remain only one chapter and an epilogue after this, and I will probably post those quickly too. Please Review!**

13

It was more than ten minutes after his entering that Bucky stood up and helped his friend back into the hospital bed. Steve ignored the pain from his wounds as his heart still leapt with gladness. He gestured to one of the chairs sitting nearby and smiled to Bucky.

"I am assuming you have some time on your hands?"

Bucky grinned back and nodded, pulling a chair to the bed's right side and seating himself. Steve stole glances in his friend's direction, each resulting in childish giggles from both men. Something about the setting felt all too familiar.

"So," Steve began, "I suppose it's only natural for me to be curious. Have you remembered everything, Buck? Were you…yourself when you pulled me from the water?"

Bucky shook his head. "No. I was the Winter Soldier, but the Bucky part of me was trying to break through the bonds of HYDRA, if you follow me. It is so hard to describe, and I barely understand it myself. All I know for sure is that now I am me, though I think that aspects of the Soldier are still in here somewhere," he said, gesturing to his brain. "I do not remember everything, but many events and ideas are coming back to me. Hopefully my whole memory will return in time."

Cap smiled, but then he noticed for the first time the scars across Bucky's face, and his expression sobered. His first fear was that he had inflicted those wounds, but when he racked his memory, he could not place any attack of his own throughout his fights that would render such a result. Bucky had not even had those scratches on the Helicarrier, yet the scars appeared to have healed over many days. With confusion obvious in his face, Steve decided to ask about it.

"Buck, when did you get those scars?"

Bucky smiled, laughed quietly, and shook his head. "Even you would probably not believe me."

Just when Steve was about to continue to pry, footsteps sounded just outside the room. Steve knew it would be Natasha, as she and Sam had volunteered to switch off staying with him during his recovery. He was not sure how she would react to Bucky's presence, nor even what Bucky would do. Before he could give any kind of warning, the Black Widow stepped in through the doorway.

"Sorry I was late. I got caught up with…" she trailed off when she saw who was in the room. Instinct directed her hand to her concealed gun, and she pointed it at the imposter in one quick and skillful movement.

She was surprised when he did not attack her, or even try to block potential bullets with his arm. Instead, he raised his hands in an attempt to erase his status as a threat. Natasha did not buy it, and she kept her gun pointed directly toward her target. His eyes were not cold and calculating as they had been on the bridge, but the lingering pain in her shoulder from his bullet reminded her not to trust expressions from an assassin.

"Natasha, stop!" Steve said loudly. He held out his hand in protection, though it did no good, and he winced as pain flashed through his body. "Don't shoot him."

"Steve, don't," Bucky scolded, seeing his friend's pain.

"Don't shoot him," Cap repeated, breathing slowly as if that could calm the situation down at all.

"He shot you," Natasha said, tightening her grip on the pistol. Her eyes narrowed, full of anger and pain. "He shot Fury. He shot me. Steve, this man is _not _your friend, no matter what he used to be, and he must be brought to justice!"

"And I will be," Bucky said firmly. "But if I may point out, shooting me without a trial does not sound like justice. I am going to give myself up; you have my word. Please just calm down. I do have something to say to you, you know."

"Your word," Natasha said through clenched teeth, "is worth nothing to me."

"I know the Soldier's word is nothing to you, but what about Bucky's? What about the man who was nearly killed in defense of his country? I know I was not him when we last met, but now I _am_ Bucky, and I _do_ need to speak with you. So why don't you sit down and listen to me before putting a bullet in my head?"

Steve grinned. Bucky really did sound like himself, and it gave the captain certainty that his friend was indeed still there. Changing the object of his attention, he looked into Natasha's eyes, deciding it was his turn to speak.

"Natasha, don't you trust me after all we've been through? As captain, I order you to put your weapon down."

Natasha looked from one man to the other, her mind scrambling to make a choice behind her steely eyes. Of course Steve was not technically a captain over her, but he might as well be. She had learned to trust him, and even though it was against everything her instincts were telling her, she decided to comply with his "order". Slowly, she lowered her gun, but she did not put it in its holster or let her guard down in the slightest.

"Thank you," both men said at the same time.

"What could the Winter Soldier possibly have to say to me?" Natasha asked in an irate tone.

"Bucky. Please call me Bucky," Bucky requested in a quiet voice. "I know what I am about to say may not matter to you, and you will probably not think me genuine, but I must say it, so here it goes. I am sorry."

Natasha would have laughed, but she caught herself when she saw the remorse in Bucky's eyes. He really did seem legitimately sorry, and although she did not believe him, she was not able write him off as a liar for sure.

"I am sorry for all the pain I've caused you," Bucky continued. "What I have done to you, to Steve, and to Fury was wrong, and I repent wholly of it. I ask your forgiveness, though I do not truly expect to receive it. But at least you know of my regret."

Bucky's eyes misted with tears, which streaked down his cheeks. Natasha felt pity, like a foreign virus, come into her heart for the man she had hated for five years. Was he serious? _Could_ he be serious? She had thought it impossible for Bucky's consciousness to survive through HYDRA's conditioning, but perhaps Steve was right.

Bucky had waited for Steve's answer to his plea for forgiveness, for he had assumed it would be given to him, but he did not do so for Natasha, knowing it would place her in an awkward position. She, unlike Steve, would have no desire to grant him forgiveness, and he did not want to pressure her into it. If she wanted to forgive him, she would say so herself. Feeling a little more at ease, Bucky looked back in Steve's direction and smiled.

"What were you asking me, Steve?"

"How did your face get all banged up?" the captain asked.

"Oh, yes. And I said you wouldn't believe me, which is true."

"I would still like to hear the story, even if it is unbelievable."

"Very well," Bucky consented, "but no laughing, for this is serious."

"What is serious?" Natasha asked, showing curiosity for the first time. "You getting beat up?"

"Well, it was," Bucky agreed, "but the healing is the more interesting part of the tale. Healing in the Last Homely House."

**How did I do writing Natasha? I was not really confident in this endeavor, so let me know what you think. Did I do well? Does it need improvement? Please leave me some feedback: it makes my day to get reviews!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Last chapter! There will be an epilogue of sorts, so don't go away once you finish. I hope you guys like this encounter. Let me know what you think!**

14

"You don't need to be so nervous, Buck," Steve tried to comfort his friend as they walked down the halls of the White House. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Steve, next time you have to make a confession of a dozen murders to the most powerful man in the world, think about how ridiculous that question is," Bucky replied with dry humor. "I still don't see why he's the one I have to see."

"Matthew Ellis is a very understanding man," Steve assured. "I have met him on a couple occasions, and I have come to the conclusion that he's one of this nation's best presidents. I think that if you give your apology to him over a random cop, the result will be more in your favor."

"How can going to prison be in my favor one way or another? Prison is prison."

Cap said nothing in response to Bucky's question, keeping his hopes and plans to himself. Instead, he once again tried to relieve his friend of anxiety. "At least you've gotten good at this apologizing thing," he said with a smile.

"Thanks," Bucky said with heavy sarcasm, but he could not suppress a grin. "Let's hope he reacts as calmly as the others have, though I think their responses may have had something to do with your presence. Sam and Natasha seem like to have at least sort of believed me, but I still think Fury is having me followed or something. There wasn't an ounce of trust in his eyes, or eye, I suppose. I don't blame him for being suspicious, though."

"He'd like to have everyone followed apparently," Steve replied with a sigh. "He has bugged my apartment and assigned an agent to protect me, and I'm a national hero. You would have to be his mother for him to trust you, so don't be offended. However, I doubt he has the resources at the moment to have anyone followed, let alone someone who has actually expressed regret for past sins."

Bucky nodded slowly, but the stress of the moment did not abate while they continued down the hall. He and Steve reached a security check, and they were told to wait by a guard. They sat down in a pair of chairs, and although Bucky was quite nervous, he felt a wave of peace pass over him when he thought about what Aragorn would say as he tied up the last loose end of his past.

"What was that smile for?" Steve asked.

"I was just thinking of Aragorn," Bucky replied. "He was the first one to tell me to do all this repenting stuff. He was right: forgiveness from men brings peace between men, and forgiveness from God brings eternal security."

"He was smart," Steve remarked with a nod and grin.

"Did I ever tell you that he sends you his regards?"

"No," Steve said, unable to keep a little bit of surprise from his face. "I suppose that is a high honor; I wish I could return it."

"As do I. You two would get along well, I think."

Within a few minutes, the two friends spotted a small group of men approaching them, and they stood up respectfully. The President of the United States was walking down the hallway, several security guards on each side. His expression was kind and experienced, and he smiled politely to his guests.

"Captain Rogers," he greeted with a dip of his head.

"Mr. President," Steve returned.

"I am glad to see you so well after your injuries. Was it ten days in the hospital?"

"Eleven," Steve corrected with a smile.

"Eleven days for four bullets," Ellis said thoughtfully. "Do they have any of that serum to spare?"

"Unfortunately, they do not," Steve said with a laugh.

Ellis waved off his security guards, who reluctantly moved several paces away. He now turned his attention to Bucky, who now felt much smaller and less important.

"James Barnes, I gather," the President said, shaking Bucky's hand. "It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is all mine, let me assure you," Bucky said solemnly. To prevent the agony of waiting to continue any longer, Bucky went right to the point. "I must report to you several of my own acts of treason and murder, sir. I was brain-washed by HYDRA, but I am still responsible for my actions, and I give myself up to the justice system. What I did was wrong, and there can be no excuse."

The President looked long into Bucky's eyes, as if studying his motives through them. The silence was terrible, but Bucky refused to break his stare with Ellis. He hoped that the remorse in his own gaze would prove his repentance, even if that did not mean anything for his future. At last, the President sighed and shook his head.

"Do you realize the gravity of the crimes you have committed?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky said, his head down.

"And you are willing to face judgment for them?"

"Yes, sir."

Ellis took a step toward a nearby window and looked out, still speaking to Bucky, but not looking his direction. "Do you also realize, Mr. Barnes, that you sacrificed your life for this nation during World War II?"

Bucky looked up, surprised by the comment. "You and your fellows risked everything you possessed for America," the President continued, "and you paid a higher price than anyone for that risk. This taken into account, along with your willingness to be punished and your regret for the evil actions, I grant you a full pardon of all crimes you committed against the United States while an agent of HYDRA."

Bucky's jaw dropped, and he sucked in a huge gasp. He had not been expecting that at all; he had not hoped for anything except punishment of some kind. He might have foreseen a lenient sentence, but a pardon? That was so much more than he could ever have asked for or dreamed of.

Steve put his hand on Bucky's shoulder and shook it in excitement. Everything seemed like a blur as Bucky tried to thank the President, though he could still not force himself to believe what had happened. Finally he managed to gather his wits enough to speak, although his voice was shaky.

"Thank you sir. Thank you so much."

Ellis smiled at both men before walking back toward the security men. It seemed the short encounter was now over, but the President did turn around to bid them a farewell.

"Goodbye, gentlemen. Good luck!"

"Goodbye, sir," Cap said. "Thank you for your time."

Bucky could not say anything, but his eyes and demeanor got his message across. Ellis turned and walked away, chuckling quietly to himself as he went. Steve wrapped the shell-shocked Bucky in a happy embrace, which was returned. When the men pulled apart and Bucky looked into Steve's face, he saw a glint of mischievousness in his friend's eye, and he immediately sought an explanation.

"You had something to do with this, didn't you?"

Steve acted innocent for only a few seconds before breaking into a sting of laughs. "Yes, I did," he said through a wide grin. "I made a few calls. I am Captain America, you know; I have influence."

"I just can't believe it. I've spent these past two weeks preparing to spend the rest of my life in prison. Now suddenly the world is wide open. What should I do now?"

"Grab some lunch?" Steve suggested. Bucky smiled as he followed his friend out of the building. "You know Bucky," Cap began in a more serious tone, "the loss of S.H.I.E.L.D. poses a problem with all those bad guys running around. You could think about joining up with a really cool super soldier and saving the world."

"That sounds like a good idea," Bucky replied, lightly and playfully jabbing his friend in the ribs, though being careful not to place it on an injury. "But let's eat first."

**I know that most people do not think Bucky is responsible for the Soldier's actions, and personally I don't know for sure. However, I made him take responsibility as a good man should, and it worked out well for him in the end anyway. How did I do in dialogue this round? Was my solution to Bucky's plight reasonable? Please review to let me know!**


	15. Epilogue

**Author's Note: At last, we come to it. The end of this story. I won't bother you now, but I've a few things to say afterwards, so read away without hesitation!**

_Epilogue_

An unclear image flashed before Aragorn's eyes, and he could not at first make sense of what he was seeing. Then, as his vision cleared, he saw that he was in a strange room, filled with people and food. He himself did not appear to be sitting or standing, and it occurred to him that he was dreaming. Shoving this fact aside, he looked around him with curiosity, wondering where he was.

Then he spotted two men seated together in the room's corner. Aragorn came closer to them, though he did no walking, and he was surprised to recognize one as Rancelevon. His face was cleanly shaven and his clothes were different, but even with a glove covering his metallic hand, the man was definitely Bucky. Aragorn tried to speak, but no sound came, and he remembered that Bucky could likely neither see him nor hear him.

The man across the booth was muscular and dressed in a red, white, and blue uniform. His eyes were merry, and he laughed often. Aragorn deduced that this must be the famous Steve Rogers, the friend Bucky had spoken so highly of. Considering that Bucky had injured him so severely just before coming to Arda, the ranger also assumed that considerable time had passed since Bucky returned to this world, perhaps a week or two, depending on how time worked between universes.

Slowly, the muddled sounds around him became clear, and Aragorn caught part of the conversation that was going on between the two men. Though he did not understand some of what they said because of the cultural barrier, he eagerly received ever detail, hoping it would enlighten him as to Bucky's recent doings.

"…but all the paperwork!" Bucky exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Surely a pardon is not simply a quick decision of the President; there's got to be more to it than that."

"There is, and a lot more at that. However, you don't need to worry about any of that. Just accept that it has been taken care of."

"How long have you been working on this, anyway?" Steve smiled and looked away. "How long," Bucky demanded again.

"Since I first awoke in that hospital," Steve answered, keeping his modest eyes averted. Bucky was clearly taken aback at this, and Aragorn did not doubt that the man felt an even deeper debt to his friend.

"But you didn't even know…"

"I didn't need to," Cap insisted, giving Bucky a looked that showed all the love in the world. "You're my friend, and that's all that matters. However, you can imagine how thrilled I was that you came back and took responsibility for your crimes. It is such an amazing transformation. What a work God has done in your heart."

"Indeed."

"I have been wondering a little about this whole event in Rivendell, though. I believe what you say, and I can't help but to hope that we may run into that world again. Maybe it'll be my turn next time."

Bucky smiled. "If it is, and you go without me, make sure you give a kind welcome to Aragorn. He's been the greatest of the Lord's instruments in my life so far, besides you."

"Don't you worry about my attitude toward him. If ever I see him, I will give him all the thanks in the world, and…"

The speech then became too muddled to comprehend, as did the scene. Aragorn had been too glad and too flattered to notice it before the whole of the dream was swallowed up. Suddenly he was snapping his eyes open, and he found himself lying in his comfortable bed of Rivendell, the morning just dawning. The dream, or more likely vision, was over.

It had been far too realistic to be a jumble of ideas, and Aragorn believed it had significance. He had encountered strange, almost prophetic dreams before meeting Bucky, and they had helped him stay alert so that his aid might come quickly. Perhaps what he had seen had been what was really happening to Bucky.

Slipping out of bed and changing into some clothes, Aragorn headed through the halls of the Last Homely House, seeking the wisdom of Elrond. However, before he had reached his foster-father's office, he was stopped by Bilbo in the great hall.

"Dúnadan!" the old hobbit exclaimed on seeing his friend. "I have at last completed my draft for Rancelevon's song! Would you listen to it read through?"

"Of course," Aragorn consented, having no need to hurry.

Bilbo made himself comfortable on his stool and waited with pride as a few of the elves gathered around to hear his creation. Clearing his throat and trying to calm his smile, he began to chant.

_In a forest dark, on an evening cold,_

_A stranger trekked through the night._

_His sorrows were many, his troubles untold;_

_Despair loomed too great to fight._

_The man seemed as a legend made real:_

_Stronger than ten was he on his own._

_Quickly he could move, quickly he could heal,_

_And untiring, his silver arm shone._

_Hunger at last drove him to a distant fire;_

_Swiftly to danger he tread._

_He knew only that his need was dire_

_And not that evil stirred ahead._

_When he reached the source of his hope,_

_He was met with an evil scene._

_Trolls sat before him on a grassy slope—_

_Creatures he'd never seen._

_Though a threat was posed by each strange thing,_

_The man did not hesitate._

_Drawing his blade and preparing to spring,_

_He got into a readied state._

_His leap and stroke proved well done,_

_And the troll was slain by his blow._

_But the real battle had only just begun_

_For there remained still a foe._

_The troll took up a large branch to wield._

_It roared to signal attack._

_And the man, who was without a shield,_

_Was forced to give back._

_He dodged with speed the troll's first stroke,_

_Then threw his blade with skill._

_It flew through the fire's wafting smoke,_

_But the troll it did not kill._

_The troll's skin was strong; its hide was thick._

_The knife glanced to the ground._

_In anger fierce, the beast waved its stick_

_And swept the club around._

_The man and club did not yet meet;_

_He darted aside with ease._

_But another swift blow to the man's feet_

_Brought him down to his knees._

_The furious troll let a deadly stroke fly,_

_Slamming the man aside._

_He crashed to the ground with a pain-filled cry_

_And could not rise, though he tried._

_Though all hope seemed gone, it was not so;_

_Aid came to him in surprise._

_Narsil flashed forth, the blade all aglow,_

_Isildur's heir gave his battle cries._

"_Elendil! Elendil!" his yells echoed on._

_He thrust Narsil in the troll._

_The life of that evil fled and was gone._

_It crumpled down without soul._

_In haste, the Dúnadan ran to the stranger:_

_The man was clearly in need._

_The wounds gave great concern to the ranger,_

_And he put the man on his steed._

_To Imladris and healing the two raced away._

_They rode through the night without halt_

'_Til at last they reached the blesséd way_

_Which all elves of Arda exalt._

_The Dúnadan helped the man when he awoke_

_He told him to fear no harm._

_The ranger named him, since no word he spoke,_

_Rancelevon: silver arm._

_In Rivendell, Rancelevon received healing_

_Both of his wounds and his past._

_He found that when before Eru you are kneeling_

_Peace is yours at last._

"It is not very good yet," Bilbo said as he suddenly dropped his formality, "but it tells the story well enough. What do you think, Dúnadan?"

"You have done an excellent job," said the ranger, beaming. "He would be most flattered."

"Would he?" the elderly hobbit asked with a twinkle of pride in his eye. "Good."

"I especially like that last stanza," Aragorn remarked. "I think it sums up what he learned very well. Peace is only found when you have given your life to Eru."

"An important lesson," Bilbo commented.

"An important lesson that Rancelevon has experienced to its fullest," the ranger said with a smile, waving farewell to the hobbit. As Aragorn walked off toward Elrond's office, he whispered to himself, almost as he would a prayer. "May he make good use of it in his life, now that he has been redeemed for a truly glorious purpose."

**First off, I want to thank you all for reading this. That's what I write for, after all. With this thanks comes a humble request. As of today, at least a dozen people are following this story. Maybe each of you could review on this, the last part of Healing in the Last Homely House? I am glad for the reviews I have received, but if you would all show your appreciation here at the end, I would be much obliged. Can you imagine something like twelve or fifteen reviews on one chapter? That would make my day, my week, and possibly my year! **

**Now, this question is important: should I make a sequel and/or some one-shots that follow afterwards? Did you guys like it enough to read more, or is the story better if it stops here? I may wait until the next Avengers movie comes out to write another, but I really like these characters, so I don't know if I can stay away that long.**

**Hey, if any of you like my work, stay tuned. I will have a Silmarillion related story up as soon as I get it edited. Anybody out there like baseball? If you do, you should probably check that story out when I get it up: it was the most fulfilling thing in the entire world to write for me, a passionate baseball fan! How can the Silmarillion have anything to do with baseball, you ask? Well, you'll just have to find out. **

**May God bless you all! Thanks again for reading this story! Soli Deo Gloria!**


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